


Peace in Your Violence

by ironheart



Category: Black Panther (2018), Creed (2015), Creed (Movie), Doctor Strange (2016), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Bottom T'Challa (Marvel), Crossover, Crossover Pairings, Erik Killmonger Lives (in another body), Fantastic Four - Freeform, M/M, Multiple Universes Colliding, Parallel Universes, Post-Avengers: Infinity War Part 1 (Movie), Top Adonis
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-04-28
Updated: 2019-01-26
Packaged: 2019-04-29 01:40:05
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 31,130
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14462322
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ironheart/pseuds/ironheart
Summary: T'Challa finds something in Adonis's fights and he is willing to pay for it.





	1. Sponsor

**Author's Note:**

> The characters belong where they belong!  
> The OOC is my own doing.  
> Errors, mistakes and typos might be present.  
> Kudos and comments are welcomed!  
> Please share everything in your mind while you are reading it.  
> It is a rush post and I will provide more details to the setting later.  
> Thank you!

It happened one evening, after their training was over.

Rocky seemed more relaxed than the last time he had seen him because yesterday, he had ruined the sponsor deal with Mrs. Monroe. They had talked for less than three minutes before he knew she was not meant for him. Mrs. Monroe was a widow to a rich man and she had barely seen him fight before they had met.

The last thing he had wanted was the first thing they had talked about. He had been told to be another person. She was not satisfied with his fighting style and she wanted to alter the way he was in every game.

Adonis would not have let it happen, of course, so he just had said directly to her face that he didn’t want to hear any awful suggestions coming out of her red lips. She was furious while he was fearless. But Rocky was unhappy. That was the problem. He wanted the best for him. He wanted him have supporters with fortune, he wanted him to know every bit of cost would be dealt with so that he could fight without looking over his shoulders and he wanted him to be better because someone cared enough was giving him more chances to make things better. Anyway, Adonis hadn’t done what the daddy said and now they lost the sponsor. He knew, at least partially, that it had been his fault. But the truth was simple, change or no change, he wanted to do it his way.

They didn’t even talk as much as usual in the ring today as Adonis more focused after getting rid of that lady and Rocky immersed in working a way out of their financial situation. The whole gym seemed utterly quiet as if every drop of sweat hitting the floor was hammering. He punched, Rocky took it in with the pads. That was almost the only thing they had done since the lights on. He wanted to fetch a subject but timing was not always right. Rocky could be hard to talk to sometimes, but they would grab a beer later to sort things out and everything would be fine.

When Adonis took one of his gloves out of his left hand while looking over the ring at the door, he saw a shadow lingering outside of the frame. That was the moment when he heard Rocky said,

“Got you a new sponsor,” Rocky was back from the bathroom, shaking off the water on his hands. “Take him to dinner, dance on his lap, feed his dogs, whatever. Impress him.”

So, this time it was “him”. God finally answered his prayer even though he didn’t like the way Rocky was implying.

And still, he wondered if it was Déjà vu. “Why not just give me a pussy so I can grab?” he yanked the half-loose glove onto the floor, beginning to work on another one. “I need to let out some steam.”

“You let out enough steam today hotshot. No pussy sponsor, you will ruin it. You got bad luck with this kind of shit.” Rocky’s face was still, not really caring what had happened last time. He glanced at the door, capturing the shadow Adonis had seen, face lightened up.

“Like I won’t this time.” Adonis hated to break it to him but he was not really into making deals with money now.

Again, Rocky didn’t leave multiple choices to him. It seemed like there was only one way out of this. “You better not, or you will get your ass kicked in the ring tomorrow.” He emphasized, “You understand me?”

“Yeah yeah yeah, old man”, the other glove was out of Adonis’s palm and landed on the floor. “Ya go ahead. I will work harder on my speech this time.”

“He is already here.” Arms wide open, Rocky announced.

“What the fuck Roc?! That fast?” Now Adonis was really turned off. “What am I supposed to say to him huh? At least give me some time to shower. Look at me!” He had been training all afternoon without a proper shower. He definitely smelled like a raw pig waiting to be gutted in the house and if anyone cared to get close to him, they would’ve agreed. Adonis looked up at the dim lights on the ceiling, thinking that he’d rather been dead than being seen like a pile of stinky meat. But it was his ring, he loved getting worked up like it was his calling to sweat.

“I HAVE looked at you all day ok?!” Rocky was gathering his things inside and outside of the locker, “Just...sweaty is sexy. Remember, impress him.”

“Like hell I will...”

Before he could finish, Rocky snapped to his manager mode.

“Hey.” Rocky greeted the man with a big smile on his face.

“Ah...Hey. ’S up?” Adonis followed, not even trying to raise his head.

Then, he decided to look up and he saw a man walking out of the shadow he created, with tender hesitation illustrating over his face. Under the bad lights, he found him wearing a suit which portrayed shades of purple and gold beneath the holistic black. The room had been dark for a long time until this man brought in new colors to the ring. He was surprised to see the guy was also black. It was his first time to meet a sponsor from the same universe as his.

“Good evening, gentlemen. Is this a bad time?” Hands folded against the middle button on his jacket, the man came to them, carefully.

“No no no, we were just wrapping it up.” Rocky tapped on the man’s right arm.

“Rocky,” he shook hands with the guy and turned to the young man. “Adonis. Mind if I call you that?”

_What the fuck with “good evening gentlemen” and the tribal accent? Does this gym look like a social club?_

Adonis was literally out of words to describe this meeting.

He didn’t respond, shirt drenched in sweat and breath still heavy but that didn’t take away his power and strength, instead, it made him even more intimidating.

But it didn’t last long. This glorious moment was quickly ended by Rocky’s firm pinch in his thigh. “No... not at all.” Adonis fronted a smile on his face. “I am Adonis alright to all of my friends.” That was a perfect answer. Was that?

“Thank you…” The man’s voice was consolidated and cheerful, but too subtle to make him like a fan or something. It was nearly calm, and distant. “For considering us friends.”

“Na... yeah.” As if stung by an ice tip, Adonis withdrew with a shrug, corners of his mouth turned down. “I mean, you could say that but...I don't know if it is the time to make friends when I look like this.”

“This?” The suit guy questioned at first, and then replied, “Ah you meant you're soaked. But nobody could resist it when you look like this.”

“Ummm…huh…Thanks?”

_OK is that a compliment or what? How could he put it? Flattering?_

“Good luck kid.” Rocky was going to leave the rest to him. “Imm outta here.” He shook hands with the man again, nodded and exited.

_Here we go._

Adonis fell silent.

“Easy.” The man murmured. This time when Rocky was absent, he found himself closer to the ring. Looking at Adonis on the center of the stage, he could hear the echo of his every punch into his enemy’s body and he understood why this man deserved better. He counted his own breath for seconds and then walked up to the edge.

Standing on higher ground, Adonis heard the man approaching and finally had a better look at sides of him except for his suit. Seeing his lashes cast scattered shades around his big eyes, he concluded that they were too long for a man but they perfectly fit in his features. His lips were firm and fluffy. Every time he breathed, they were automatically parted.

“I am not here to assess.” The man added, seemingly exhausted but not complaining. “After three chamber meetings today, I just fathom that I need to be somewhere else far away from my workplace.”

“I feel ya but sorry there is not much to see here.” He eventually found something to do besides of being stupid and smelly in front of the man, picking the bandage off from his wrist, exposing the bruises and darkened wrinkles. “I mean…we are closed and my training is over.”

“No rush,” the man held a hand up, eyes down to his shoes. “I will have you show me another day. I left my wallet in my office so we will just talk, for now.”

Adonis sensed the man’s reluctance behind his politeness but he didn’t really know what caused that. He was holding something back for some reason.

“Shall we sit?” The man looked around and asked.

“Ah...! Pardon me, I totally forgot manners when daddy is away.” Adonis crouched down, getting out of ring with one hand lifting up the rope.

“He teaches you well. I can see that.” The man backed away a bit to let Adonis step down from the ring to the ground before him. “Boxers don’t often sit around after all.”

“Ya absolutely right.” Adonis was pleased, heading to drag a wooden chair not afar. “Please?”

“No.” The chair seemed not welcomed, the man pointed to another direction. “I prefer there.”

The edge of the ring, still sparkling with Adonis’s sweat left by his hands when he got out of the ring.

“There?” Adonis’s eyes widened, still holding the back of the chair. “But the ring is even dirtier than me.” Looking at the man’s wear, he frowned, “You don’t want to mess up your suit.”

“I don’t mind.” The man was not pushing, just stating what he needed suggestively. “I got plenty of them. The edge looks fine for me.”

Actually, Adonis would choose the ring over anything, let alone that dull chair.

“OK...Well let me clean up a little bit for ya.”

He walked away to the locker to find his last clean towel and went back. The man watched his every move curiously, not dared to miss any part of it.

“Thank you.” The man unbuttoned his suit, sitting down on the edge. “I am T’Challa.”

_What kind of name is that?_

It reminded Adonis of some comic book he had read when he was a kid but he didn’t remember which one. He sat beside T’Challa and continued to untie his wrists with his head down. He didn’t forget to nod, having the situation completely under control. As he didn’t remember where this name came from, he just let it go. He didn’t care that much. Name was only a symbol, the person owning it was the only thing that mattered.

“I heard you would have a match next week.” T’Challa didn’t know his name was an unsolved problem to Adonis nor did he really pay attention, just going into the conversation as he had planned.

“Yeah, with R. J. Tyron.” Adonis looked up, playing with a thread released out of the circles. He gazed at the man’s folded hands on his laps, steady and still.

“Man, he is tough.” T’Challa said, wiping his eye with the side of his thumb as he smiled.

“Yeah, but I am tougher.”

Adonis was not bluffing because he really thought that was the fact. As the man’s thumb left his face, the elegant bone structure of his long fingers caught Adonis’s eyes. He raised his eyebrows, imagining what these fingers could do when they pressed down on someone else’s body or, his own body. He wished he was not too obvious otherwise his precarious eyebrows would betray his heart and let the man notice.

“Glad to hear that.” As soon as Adonis calmed the fuck down, T’Challa turned his eyes to meet his. “So I don't need to worry?”

“Worry about what?” Adonis felt he was interrogated by his mama, “Are you kidding me?”

“You don’t want me to say it out loud do you?” T’Challa narrowed his eyes, covering his chin with one hand as if he was rigorously organizing the next word he was going to say.

“Say anyway.” Adonis urged.

“Do I need to worry that you will get hurt?”

Stunned, Adonis admitted that he was not expecting this. He had received all kinds of tips from former sponsors but none of them was worries about him getting hurt. He got hurt all the time. That was what the game was like.

“I mean, badly hurt kind of hurt.” Realizing it was somehow idiotic to put it that way, T’Challa rephrased.

“Wha… this is not about me losing?”

After listening to what the man had said, Adonis had to pose this question on the table. There was something about this man, something out of ordinary. He didn’t know what was wrong with his head, he just felt the man’s detachment was contradictory to his line of work. He cared about winning and he wanted the same way with everyone who wanted to support him.

“No. 100 percent NO.” T’Challa wanted to make sure his message was being delivered clearly. “I don’t care you losing or winning.”

_So why do you invest in me exactly?_

“You can’t just pay to watch me fight without any expected outcome, right?”

Adonis stood up, a painful laughter chocked out of his throat.

“I am not worthy of your visit.”

“Maybe I can.” T’Challa put one of his hands on the glove Adonis left on the edge. “Maybe, I just want to watch you fight.”

“Everybody does.” Adonis dragged the glove out of the man’s hand, fixing his eyes. Now he had seen this man through, he knew he was like those fuckers claiming they would be there for him but not genuinely believing that he would win the belt.

“No one does like me, my friend.”

T’Challa had worried that Adonis would get this the wrong way but he had not known how much pain he would have felt.

“You aim your punch and I will aim mine. We play different roles.” T’Challa said, standing up to face him. He looked straight into Adonis’s eyes. “Just assure me that you will save a seat for me close to the ring.”

“Your money can get you the closest seat in the front.” Adonis scorned, sizing up side down all over T’Challa’s well-suited body.

“I don’t mean the one money can buy.” T’Challa picked up his glove and shoved it against Adonis’s chest. Adonis felt the determination from the man’s hand. “I am saying you need to bear me in your mind,” he paused there, “Besides Rocky, there is another person sitting very close to you, watching you and even enjoying your violence.”

“You think I am violent?”

Now T’Challa got his attention. Adonis bit his teeth, taking off the glove back before throwing it into the ring. The man didn’t move, his eyes following the way the glove was going for an instant and then shooting right back to look at Adonis.

“Yes, is this a bad thing?” T’Challa asked, positioning one hand down onto Adonis’s fore arm. He was smiling again, a naughty grim tilting one corner of his lips as he kept tightening his grip until Adonis pulled it off.

“If it is out of my control.” Adonis knew he didn’t have to say that but the blood pumping in his veins judged otherwise. His forehead was one inch away from bumping into the man’s. “And it happens a lot to me.”

“I am counting on that.” T’Challa let out a soft sigh, the worries that once occupied his eyes disappeared.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys!  
> So, what do you think?   
> To make it clearer, I need to clarify a few points.  
> Both Erik and Adonis exist in this universe because it is the foundation that T'Challa can execute his plan.  
> The ultimate goal is to let Erik live, no matter what the cost is and the way he accomplishes it.  
> In the end, he will succeed but we don't know if he would have any regrets when he did.  
> If you are interested, please stay tuned and leave your comments down below!  
> Thank you!


	2. Shell

“I lost my right hand in the coup your cousin conjured.”

When T’Challa heard his report, he realized the other tribe member he had seen next to M’Baku’s side on the mountain didn’t show up. He couldn’t avoid the compelling eyes of someone who had lost his family. “M’Baku, I understand.”

The sun descended slowly down the cliffs outside of the hall, shivering red-orange beams behind a thin layer of cloud. It was another sunset in Wakanda, which T’Challa really wanted Erik to see again. But none of these would stay, just like the faint, almost imperceptible scar Erik gifted him in the battle. The marks, the pain and the sorrow he had thrown upon him, were fading.

Covered in a snow-white fur coat, M’Baku stared at the king and said, “No, you don’t understand.” He pointed his forefinger to the warrior’s fall on the other side of Wakanda. “I paid you back by saving your life and when your family and that little white guy came to me to seek help, I didn’t refuse.”

T’Challa didn’t reply at once so he continued, “But now I begin to wonder that if all the blood that my tribe shed was meaningful.”

The suspicion and doubt in M’Baku’s eyes forced him to face the aftermath of Erik’s coup. It had been a bloodbath, body parts spreading on the peaceful land, tears pouring down from dusty faces and the weapons once having been used to defend became killing machines. “I am not allowed to be the one to judge if any of your sacrifices was worth it.” T’Challa took a deep breath, remaining still, “I am terribly sorry for your lost, M’Baku. Anything you want will be granted by the Golden Tribe. Everything in my power is at the service for the reconstruction of your tribe.”

“We will get to that later.” These offers were given according to his plan, but M’Baku dared to demand another. “Now, where, is, his body?”

T’Challa’s nails dug into the rail of the throne.

_He died._

It didn’t feel like executing a criminal since there had never been a trial. T’Challa remembered it well. He was the one who killed Erik and let him fade away even if he had the chance to keep him alive. Indeed, he wouldn’t stand it, if Erik had had to live a life damned by the majority of this country and one day, he would have to kill him again. He was no superhero, or king or savior, but the harbinger of death. But it didn’t mean that he didn’t feel it, the blood spraying out of the massive cut on Erik’s chest seemed sinking into the creases in his palm.

_Two very important parts of them are finally bonded together._

“You keep saying that he is dead,” shaking his head, M’Baku scoffed. “I will be the judge of that when I see this outsider bite the dust.”

T’Challa had tried, honestly, to not let his guard down. But every breath he took was a step closer to break down. “He can no longer see the sunsets in Wakanda, this I can assure you.” The debt seemed even between him and M’Baku, but he knew he could’ve done more. For everyone. “I will say whatever makes you feel less pain.”

“Save it,” M’Baku commented, turning away to face the exit of the hall, the illuminating sunshine burning on the other half of his face. “You can say that to my people who lost their loved ones to this unspeakable family feud.”

Shuri couldn’t let this go on any longer. She stepped in from outside and dragged M’Baku to the majestic gate.

“M’Baku! Your tribe is not the only one that suffered,” she hissed at him, “You don’t know what T’Challa lost do you?”

“I see your king and king’s family alive and well. He’s got the throne and the black panther power,” A Dora Milaje gave him a threatening look, but M’Baku didn’t take none of it. “Even that traitor W’kabi is pardoned. Your king has made it a habit of forgiving.”

“Like I said.” T’Challa’s voice came from behind. “His body is cold now. Colder than every time you have a blizzard in your mountain.”

 

This lab was part of Wakanda’s technology center but it had not been used to store body. It was fully equipped with every technical toy from the outside like the other ones. Everything was numbers, charts and simulations in here. Calculations, tabs and computers livened up Shuri’s mood but ever since T’Challa had transported Erik’s body into this room, this place felt lifeless.

“He looks so pale. Why did it not happen to Sargent Barnes?”

“This is not the case like Sargent Barnes, brother.” Shuri checked Erik’s vitals on the monitor, seeing nothing but a flat line and colorless graphs as she had expected. “He is DEAD. Sargent Barnes was put to sleep. It is different. Erik was cold before and he will remain cold forever.”

Shuri understood there was something bothering her dear brother for some time and even though she could half-guessed what it was about, she really wanted T’Challa to free himself from what he felt after he had killed Erik.

“You can keep his body as long as you want but you need to know,” she encouraged, “You killed him and that’s it. You are the king now!”

“I couldn’t help wondering, what would I feel about him if I knew more about him.” T’Challa caressed the crystal module that kept Erik’s body intact, scanning his dry skin, the frost hanging on his lashes and storytelling tattoos all over his upper body. “What his childhood was like, what he encountered when he grew up and what made him seek violence besides of revenge.” He suddenly began to worry whether the black robe covering his limbs would save him from getting cold.

“There is no other explanation to his behavior, T’Challa,” said Shuri, tone gentle and light. “He was blinded by the hatred against our father. He treated uncle’s death as unjustified and the policies of Wakanda not identical to where he came from. We are different and he knew that. He just... wanted to make the world like where he had been living in.”

The king wished it were that simple but he had his doubts. Things had happened so fast. Once he had known Erik from Everett’s introduction and his profile on the suspending screen, he knew he would have treasured this man. And he was right, even during the time when he had to fight for his life in the fall, he had found things he couldn’t give up on besides the throne. That was Erik.

“We don’t even have the time to know the world he was living in. It is not about Wakanda, nor Oakland, it is about his beliefs.” T’Challa told her.

Erik was strong, determined and loyal to what he believed in. Wakanda needed this kind of talent but…the incident that had driven people crazy had broken T’Challa’s heart even harder. This colorful soul had been deemed to perish in his hands.

“In the end, he still wanted to hold onto the only thing he believed in about Wakanda.” The last words Erik had given him flashed back to his mind, T’Challa thought it was beautiful that Erik cherished the wonder in Wakanda but it was a shame that he couldn’t present more to him, knowing he had to hand him over from a world he didn’t feel belong, to death.

“You mean his Wakandian name?”

“Not the name.” T’Challa explained as he knew the glittering ink hidden in Erik’s lips was just the passport into their kingdom. There is no other way for him walking among them. “He wished to live like us, root among us, but circumstances wouldn’t allow him.”

“What if,” he watched Shuri’s eyes as his baby sister listened, “I want him to live as he wishes, in another way?”

 

Everett Ross approached the king from the other side of the conference room. He followed him quietly when he had exited the conference room, watching his face switch from official to loneliness.

“I can put you in touch with someone I know.”

He had folded his arms in the last row of the crowd throughout the whole conference, not seeing much of happiness or pride in the king’s eyes when he had announced to share the resources of Wakanda with the world. He fighting along with the king in the battle had let him realize what the king had lost and Shuri had mentioned the same thing to him.

As T’Challa took a break from the Q&A period in the reception room, he knew it was the time to offer his help. “A very powerful individual. When I say powerful, it means, he knows things are beyond technology.”

“He knows magic.” T’Challa wiped out the coffee on his lips with a piece of tissue he had brought with him, not wanting to contaminate the sunset on his scarf.

“Not only the bright ones, he also knows how to cast dark magic. Actually, he wouldn’t dare to try but he has the very power to do the latter. And he said he wanted to meet you for your concerned matters.”

T’Challa raised his eyebrow, pupils darkened.

Everett waited for the king’s reaction and he was right about his wisdom again.

T’Challa suggested, tone rising, “Doctor Stephen Strange?”

“Yes, him.” Everett sat down in the high-end sofa next to him and ease his limbs from the back ache he had gain from the leather chair in the conference room. “Warning, he would give you hell of a long lecture about consequences.”

“I’ve already had my consequences,” said T’Challa, putting down the coffee cup on the little plate in his palm. “Please do put me in touch with him.”

“He comes to you.” Everett had talked about this with the Doctor and that was the response he had been told to give T’Challa. “We can’t find him.”

 

“Your Majesty.”

T’Challa’s eyes flipped open. He was wearing the same pajama as before while he had gone to sleep. But he was not in his bed, instead, he was seated in a library with numerous books surrounding him. Doctor Strange just snatched back the book his cape had grabbed, turning around to look at him.

“Doctor,” T’Challa adjusted his body in the sofa, “I remember I was sleeping in my chamber and...”

“Well, we are indeed sharing a bedtime story are we not?”

“Talking about that...”

“Ah... don’t even start,” Stephen cut him off with a snap on his finger. The cape flied away to a lounge where the Doctor’s liquids were kept and swaggered back with two cups of tea. “Everett told me all about your cousin like I hadn’t known. I have knowledge to every part of the world for crying out loud.”

Before T’Challa could say anything, a black male whose name almost burst out of his lips appeared in the place where Stephen had stood. He was young and energetic, top-naked, wearing a pair of scarlet loose knee-breeches, shouldering a silky robe in the same color and long enough to cover his calves.

“How do I look?” The young man’s voice was still Stephen’s and he paced around to test every part of this body. The cape came closer, judging his robe from behind.

T’Challa couldn’t believe it. Standing in front of him was a lost twin that Erik couldn’t find.

“Great,” commented T’Challa in a deep voice, “Except that Erik had braids and his chest was covered by tattoos. Gold teeth, smirk, hatred eyes, missing. This body is fit though and… younger.”

“I am not showing you your beloved cousin.” Stephen motioned him to forward with his hands, “Look closer.”

There was a tag on his breeches.

“Adonis Johnson?” T’Challa called out that name which didn’t ring a bell at all. “Who is this?”

“He is the solution to all of your problems, Your Majesty.”

“T’Challa is OK.”

“T’Challa, Erik is dead dead, you know what I mean?” The real Stephen walked out of the body, leaving it there in a frozen and transient image. “I am not obliged to bring people back to life now,” he clarified, palms attached in front of his nose.

_Not obliged, but not unable._

“Yeah. I see his body every day,” T’Challa told him.

“Oh, that’s creepy but I am not going to judge you. Now, you find it similar when you look at Mr. Johnson no? That’s because he will be the perfect shell for Erik’s spirit."

Alarmed by Stephen’s words, T’Challa said huskily, “What do you mean? Spirit? Shell?” Rituals connecting the chosen ones with black panther power to The Dead were common in his kingdom but this was spirit transplant they were talking about.

A few days ago, he had found out that the rituals did not work for someone from the “outside”. Despite the heart-breaking manifesto Erik had left him when he had died, he really hoped he had found what he had been dying for. That was why he had thought he could find Erik among The Dead since Erik had once taken the herbs. Unexpectedly, he failed. When he had woke up in the grassland, he hadn’t seen him. He was not there and he was not here. Then where was he? This question had been disturbing him for quite a while. That’s why he took the chance to talk to someone working between reality and virtuality. As far as T’Challa knew, even for someone as smart as Shuri, to extract spirit from one’s body was never possible. They could work magic on someone who was severely injured or holding the last breath towards death but they could do nothing to someone who was determined to die.

“I know what you are thinking. You are right and I am not joking around.” Stephen took a sip from the tea cup before setting himself on the carpeted floor. “You see I choose my words carefully. This body _will be_ , but not _is_ the perfect shell. I’ve located Erik’s spirit but he hasn’t decided if he wanted to be part of this.”

“OK…” At this point, everything was too blur for T’Challa. He wouldn’t even know if Stephen was lying. “Will I be able to talk to him?”

“Not happening,” refused Stephen hurriedly. “You are not dead and you are not a sorcerer.”

T’Challa lowered his head, looking at his face projected on the surface of the tea.

_It is a face that Erik was sick of._

“No, he doesn’t want to see me. He hates me...”

The king’s downward momentum was intolerable for Stephen, he carried on, “Yeah yeah yeah, and me, and your ladyguards, and Everett, and that big white monkey in the mountain and the whole world.”

When T’Challa woke up again in his own bed, countless dreams bringing forth how they met again before the next life had kept him hovering in most of his sleep. The day he had reconnected with his blood was the day he had been forced to put justice above family like his father. He thought himself different from his father because if it had been him, he would have chosen to bring Erik back. But would he? If he had known someday he would stabbed him in the back?

_“It is a ritual, similar to yours. I will tell you exactly how to do it every step of the way. Not only that it is hard to perform, the price is horribly steep. As long as you know what you are doing, you will be fine.”_

Stephen’s words rang in his ear the second time as Shuri knocked on the door to call him out for breakfast. T’Challa realized that it was not a long lecture. Everett had exaggerated.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's why Adonis was targeted by King T'Challa.  
> I dove into T'Challa's POV after he killed Erik in this chapter because I've seen not much of it in other works.  
> Adonis will seem passive for a while but it won't be long before he knows he was for special use for T'Challa.  
> How the ritual will be performed will be explained in the next chapter but bare in mind that it won't go as planned because Adonis also has a role to play.


	3. Teeth

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Step 1: Project the spirit onto his skin.  
> PS: I really enjoyed writting the boxing match...  
> Kudos and comments are very very welcomed! Please share your thoughts with me!  
> Thank you all!

Adonis was on a rest between rounds. He kept his teeth shut, making it a hard scene for the cutman to take out the piece out of his mouth. He didn’t want water because he had had enough last rest. Heart jumped in between his inner muscles, beating like a war drum on the eve. He was going to get him, Tyron. It was now or never. His trousers were almost dripping, sweat sticky on his back, chest and belly. Rocky was analyzing the techniques and loop holes in previous rounds, sharing his ideas and opinions upon Tyron’s moves.

“Show’m what you got.” Rocky said hoarsely, patting on his cheeks.

Relaxing under the caring hands cleansing his face and Rocky’s heartening shouts, he found himself under the watch of a noisy, stifled and poking microscope. 

There was nothing else he could focus on except for how to beat the fucker sitting in the other corner of the ring. R. J. Tyron, champ signed to Julian Crawford’s Corp., had prepared for kicking asses for a long time. This year alone, he had taken down all the candidates from the east side, those he could’ve had to fight against. Now, it was just two of them. Two gatekeepers from opposite sides, picking and swearing until they boned each other alive. Half of the crowd was there for Tyron for sure, girls screaming “baby I love you” and shushing his name and men roaring hoorah R. J. and fucking whistling like a train. But he knew, there was a participant in the crowd that was assigned to him —— a rich, mysterious foreign guy in assessment to his fighter. Adonis could sense that T’Challa’s brown eyes lock on him, as if a freezing blade was shaving on his arms and calves. T’Challa had never hidden his tendency to learn him and by saying _learn_ , it was more like doing ethnography. 

He had known T’Challa was special since Rocky had brought a bag of equipment and a group of unfamiliar professionals to their club this morning. He had not been given orders about how to fight except for the hints that he had to fight with the most fashionable prep he could ever get.

How T’Challa would feel about his performance in the last few rounds was not concerning him or Rocky. They were in their territory now where no one could interfere with what they would do. He took all in, the shouting, spitting and cursing. The fucks, damns, shits and losers all poured into his ear like hot cement and solidified under to unmovable concrete. Sometimes it was lucid and the next minute it was mute.

His ears were OK though, as it turned out, because the voices never let him go. Adonis bounced on the ring, bounced back and forth by the floor to circle around Tyron. His opponent hissed at him, biting the mouthpiece around his teeth. “C’mon. Get me.

Announcer shouted, “NOW!”

The crowd was insane as the new round was on. No one had paid no attention to what this fight had done to the both of them. They were exhausted, though determined to tear each other apart. It had to be the last round because their points were extremely close and he didn’t know what the judges thought.

Rocky waved his hands to guide him, “Get him on the right! Take it!”

Adonis was about to make his move when his right liver got a punch from aside and another from the left. He put up his hands to cover his face as this blow had yanked him to another side for a foot long. He quickly shifted back. Tyron added another punch but he dogged, making Tyron’s trainer mouth the Fwords to the ring.

Adonis took a few breaths, persuading himself not to rush things nor to give no chance that his handsome face got smashed. Taking three steps to Tyron, Adonis gave a few test fists, seeking any blanks Tyron would possibly leave and crossed his face when he saw one. He threw his arms around Tyron’s shoulder immediately until the announcer shouted break. When they were apart, a frustrated sound came from Tyron. Adonis knew what he would probably get next. In the next minute after the announcement, he heard something about “his face is right there” and then an overhand rained down on his eyes. 

As if the over hand had aimed his face, Rocky grinded the walls in his mouth, “FUCK.”

At this moment everything was so stuffy. The mouthpiece shackled between his lips when he bended his head to his chest. He pushed himself up because he had mastered the criticality of this inter-moment. 

_That’s it._

With a smart duck and a block, he thrusted up with a Peek-a-boo and paid his opponent back with two quick jabs. 

Tyron fell over onto the edge of the ring, panting with eyes rolled over his head. He tried to get up but his head seemed heavier than his body as he dangled like a drunk man stepping on a piece of banana peel.

Announcer began the countdown, “ONE, TWO, THREE...”

Facing Rocky’s raising hands, Adonis rejoiced over the counts, “Roc! I Got’m!”

Rocky was more committed in to the countdown as much as in their opening fight against Leo, “FIVE...SIX...SEVEN...”

Among the crowd standing a rather quiet man who had neither laughed nor cried out for every exciting and fervent moment the fighters provided. He seemed having found what he had been looking for after bathed in the buzz in his fighter’s gloves lacerating the air. Every way he had tried had never succeeded like what he felt in Adonis’s fight. Even though Adonis never intentionally showed him how much he was grounded in the ring with his instinct. T’Challa could sense his violence getting stronger. He stood there, legs spread parallel to the line of his shoulder and hands crossed behind his back, loose and easy. In the front row behind Rocky, he acknowledged that none of them would hear him counting. 

T’Challa breathed out, counting, “EIGHT...NINE...TEN...”

With the bell ringing, Adonis raised hands in the air in the shocked pause of the crowd most of which had betted Tyron would win. The announcer joined him and held his hand up, pronouncing winner’s name for tonight. The crowd was heated with screams that could throw the ceiling off.

 

Door pushed open, Adonis didn’t bother to look at the source of the sound, “Roc?”

T’Challa paused for a moment and then answered, “He is talking to the doctor, about your face.”

“Shit happens.” Realizing it was not Rocky that came in, Adonis said instead, tone crisp.

“I definitely don’t like this SHIT you are taking about.” T’Challa stated flatly, displeased with the terminology Adonis had used to review what had happened to his face.

With one foot stepping on the edge of the bench, Adonis tied up the laces on his AJ, eyes metting T’Challa’s in the mirror on the wall, “Ya gotta find a loooootta things not to like if you hang out with me.”

“We will see about that.” T’Challa pointed out and dialed Rocky’s number. “Yeah I found him. No...I...”

“Put me on the phone.” Smiling thinly, Adonis held out his hand.

Adonis took the phone from T’Challa’s hand. He wanted to put it on speaker but his fingers were slippery with sweat and blood, vibrating in the adrenalin from all the punches he had given to the opponent.

His round fingers fought with the phone screen for a while in front of T’Challa’s face until the man gave a voice command to the smartphone. “ _Isandisi-lizwi_.”

The screen flashing to another display, Adonis watched T’Challa’s phone switch to speaker mode at once. Rocky’s booming voice came from the speaker, “Hey.”

“Wha...” Rocky yipped, trying to understand what T’Challa had articulated.

_How did he do that?_

Rocky asked shortly, “He OK?”

“Yes, and he took over the phone.” Facing the frowning man, T’Challa chuckled.

“He takes over people’s phone a lot.” Rocky warned, with a short laugh.

“Ya ain’t gon listen to him.” It was a proper save, at least Adonis thought so.

T’Challa smiled, finger tips rubbing the bridge of his nose.

“How are your teeth, son?”

An alarm went off between them when Rocky posed that question.

Adonis lifted his eyes to T’Challa, feeling that it was not a conversation he wanted to have with Rocky with this man’s presence. He had made up his excuses to cope with T’Challa.  He had decided he would tell T’Challa it was just swelling and everything was accounted for. Then he would go to see the doctor himself and even though the doctor would report this to his boss afterwards, the blowback would not be that hard to contain compared to telling T’Challa face to face. And expectedly, as he was about to switch off the speaker mode T’Challa took the phone back, holding it close to his mouth.

“You still there kid?” Rocky pumped out.

“Yes we are.” Answer was given by T’Challa who retook his phone before Adonis could try. “Please go on.”

 “Shit,” was Adonis final grumble before turning away to study himself in the mirror.

“It’s one of them teeth,” Rocky explained a moment later, “I don’t know exactly which one but I know one of them went wrong.”

“Naw man I…” Adonis was almost begging, arms reaching out for T’Challa’s phone, “Can we talk about this another place another time?”

T’Challa had known the young would try to steal his phone back so he swapped hands holding the phone and held him back with another hand, one palm against his stained scarlet robe.

T’Challa looked at Adonis while talking to the phone. Now he learned why Adonis kept his face away and where the chewing-like sound from his mouth originated. He put his hand down and put it into his pocket. Still, his inquiring eyes never left Adonis. “I don’t see why we can’t do this here and now.”

“Mister, you talk some sense to Donnie.” Rocky advised in undertone, “We need him pretty in front of the camera for following interviews.”

Adonis shook his head, turning to his left to open his gym bag and took out a white towel. 

“Yes, I will. Thank you.” said T’Challa.

T’Challa hang up the phone and continued to discover the young’s every bit of sweat sliding down from his neck to his collarbone. He found it very stimulating and comforting, smelling the mutton after the waves Adonis had swung upon the stadium. He could never put this in the right way no matter how much he desired to let Adonis know.

As Adonis rubbed his face with the towel which was instantly covered by dots of pink and red blood, T’Challa’s right hand explored towards his body, landing on his left cheek, soothing the bruises there. He examined his face, catching the bulge on his jaw. It looked if not painful, but hard to watch.

“Chill. It’s MY own face.” Adonis drawled, shaking off T’Challa’s hand uneasily.

It was not only about the temperature which seemed lower, it was also about how the touch felt. It was confirmed, pacifying and claiming. When he realized this, the cool went away, fire began to seep in from these fingers.

“It ain’t even hurt.” Face buried in the towel, Adonis snapped, “Just...sore.”

“Do, avoid the swelling when you mistreat your face.” The man tipped his head, narrowing his eyes at Adonis’s hands. “I paid money for anything you own young man, including your teeth. Now I have to pay more.”

 “I know you ain’t CARE. But I won.” Indifferently, Adonis said. He was not a burnt child who dreaded the fire and he doubted this guy would take any action if he dared to play with fire again.

Annoyed but seemingly amused, T’Challa tapped his fingers on the champion’s arm, “You have done a good job tonight.”

Adonis hadn’t noticed before but now he suddenly realized that...it was only at nights when he would meet T’Challa. Lots of his fights were scheduled at midnights. He had been used to staying up late but T’Challa had been otherwise. Every time he saw him, it looked like he had lost a part of him. But fortunately, once T’Challa saw him, the heavy clouds between his brows would ease.

The only problem was, he couldn’t get to the bottom of this, finding out what T’Challa saw in his fights or what he wanted to achieve by watching him fight. He couldn’t stop thinking about this until his chin was held up gently by a hand not taking any chances adding more pain to the bulge. He guessed the man had thought of something based on the refreshed smile shining on his face.

“What if I say, I can give something new to you.” Playful but assuring, T’Challa said, before biting his underlip. “Something fancy, but suits you well.”

_Ow, this ain’t nothing good._

There was something in T’Challa’s utterance, the way he spelled that dental consonant. Adonis was confused, “Uh...don’t know about fancy man. I am comfortable for what I’ve got now.”

“Gold tee...” T’Challa added.

“Hold the fuck up,” Adonis broke in, “You gon fix my tooth with... Gold?”

T’Challa nodded, disregarding any protest in Adonis’s voice. “Yes, and two gold teeth.”

It seemed that he calculated every possibility how Adonis could’ve said no and he had prepared every angle to change his mind. Adonis really wanted to just get the hell out of here but his legs didn’t listen to him. “TWO?!”

“A little ornament to perfect your genetic masculinity. No more, no less.” 

“Damn it will hurt!”

“I WILL NEVER hurt you.” T’Challa pulled away the towel in Adonis’s loose grip and tossed it into his bag. He didn’t want any distractions. “We have best doctors.”

“Unbelievable, ya crazy.”

“I just can’t imagine any other gold teeth would be more beautiful in any other person’s mouth than yours. Is it what you think crazy?”

Adonis’s aching jaw could not drop any further. He just heard the most unreasonable reason he had ever heard in his whole life, but...

_Well that may be true._

It was not difficult to describe how the idea of getting gold teeth from T’Challa’s mouth sounded to Adonis. He thought it enjoyable, motivating and... alluring. When T’Challa said this, the man’s mood was different, with his eyes watering, breath softening and mouth...parting. 

_“What’s wrong?”_

When he had been reassured that T’Challa would be joining him in the fight against Tyron, his hesitation had concerned Rocky. The old man had thought he was nervous about the match but it had been something else. 

_“You never felt suspicious? A guy came out of nowhere and offered me a bunch of bills to do what I like. Am I like...his thing now?”_

Now, that reserved expectation in T’Challa’s tone consumed Adonis, as he was sure the man really liked this, using sparkles to fix this little imperfection of his due to the poor quality of the mouthpiece. The fact that he himself was so keen to this idea, or, the way T’Challa proclaimed he would change a part of him, was scary and thrilling. 

_“He is legit, alright? I checked all the documents. I mean look at him, he won’t even kill a fly. Focus on the fight. Fights make you and him happy.”_

He couldn’t remember the last time he had made a change of himself besides choosing his favorite career. What was not to like when someone recognizing your manhood wanted to better you as if an experienced chef who asked his cake in the oven if it was ready to be served? Something had been fencing a chance to break loose, was awaken.

Adonis was so excited about the gold teeth against his better judgement. This man was poisonous and he was so fucked up.  Now he knew, if he wanetd to play with fire, this man might just set the fire to him.

He heard himself say, “Fuck I don’t know what you did to me but hell, let’s do it.”

When he looked up to meet T’Challa’s eyes, fearlessly, he found the man’s eyes glittering, as if thousands of stars falling from a purple sky. Behind their shadow, was his own reflection on the French window against a city blazed in lights.

There was another man smiling viciously back at him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys.  
> It's Chapter 3 now. Hew...that's hard. Thank you for reading this far. What do you think?  
> There's a lot going on in my mind but I can't type them out.  
> I want to make it clear that even though both Erik and Adonis exist in this universe, the pair is still Adois\T'Challa though it feels similar because they are much alike. It is like falling for the same person.  
> So that's the first step of the ritual.  
> The shell must at least "look" like how the spirit is projected in T'Challa's mind. T'Challa has begun to transport part of Erik into Adonis and he finds this man having everything insides he neeeds for a masterpiece.  
> And I think it is a possible connection between Adonis and Erik. The teeth. <3333  
> Kudos and comments are very very welcomed! Please share your thoughts with me!  
> Thank you all!


	4. Glasses

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Step 2: Project the spirit onto his eyes.  
> The time line is set between the time Rocky and Adonis had a quarrel and the time Adonis took his father's name.  
> I gotta tell you that what happened in this chapter was not coincident.  
> Adonis will find out more in the next chapter because in the next chapter, a very important character will make contact.  
> And sooner or later T'Challa will have to pay a bigger price :))
> 
> Kudos and comments are very very welcomed! Please share your thoughts with me!  
> Thank you all!

 

 

W’Kabi heard someone approach him from behind. The comer was holding a torch, lighting up the whole platform where he was seated. W’Kabi didn’t look back, staring at the green waves as if waiting for something. Limbs chained to the stone wall, he sat cross-legged within a circle of candles, leaves and carpholites. It was an open cave facing the grassland of the Golden Tribe, situated in the peak of the hill on the back the Black Panther Statue.

“They said,” W’Kabi started, still looking over the grassland, “As long as you patiently waited and sincerely prayed, Bast would talk to you.”

“They say lots of things, so I’ve heard.” T’Challa put out the torch, stepping closer to his friend and remained on his left side.

W’Kabi muttered, “Do it quick, whatever you wish to do.”

“Okoye asked about you after the council meeting.” T’Challa lowered his head to look at W’Kabi.

Halt at the name that had been echoing in his heart, W’Kabi asked, “What could she possibly ask about me?”

As burned by the glaring sunshine, T’Challa blinked his eyes, “The council discussed punishment at the meeting today.”

 “So this is a parting visit. The end is ahead of me,” said W’Kabi, being out of spirits.

T’Challa continued, “I am afraid the punishment is not for you. It is for Okoye.”

W’Kabi looked up at T’Challa in a state of panic, “No no no. she was not aware of any of this. she protected the throne from the beginning to the end. It is absurd for someone as loyal as her.”

M’Baku had been partially wrong about W’Kabi being pardoned, they just hadn’t reached an agreement yet. Once Erik condemned as a war criminal, W’Kabi could not escape incitement after moving his own people against each other with his wife demanded introspection at the same time. Okoye was charged of misprision since that she didn’t know about her husband’s scheme or didn’t foresee it unsettled the council.

T’Challa said, chin inward, lips pursed for a moment, “I could not disagree.”

W’Kabi stood up, shouting in disbelief, “They can not do this. You are king. You can oppose!”

Brows frowning into a knot, T’Challa shook his head. “Then let you take your own life? I don’t think she would want me to.”

“What does she want then? Me, a sinned life?” W’Kabi quested resentfully, his heart wringing for what would happen to his wife.

T’Challa forwarded, pulling W’Kabi out of the circle with one hand and grabbed him away from the platform. “All that she’s ever wanted is to share the storm that is about to crash on you.”

W’Kabi stared at T’Challa, feeling his anger, lips shaking, “You need to stop her, my king.”

“You fool,” T’Challa unclenched his grip and flung him off to the stone wall, “You think I did not want her relieved from the misery she brought to herself?”

W’Kabi set up against the wall, shutting his eyes for a few seconds and rushed to T’Challa “Tell me what happened!”

Seeing the concerns in W’Kabi ’s eyes, he finally informed him. “Since your family was ordered to disavow you and they shall obey, you will be a man without a claim. anyone can kill you without breaking any laws.”

W’Kabi threw a punch into the wall, dust falling onto the back of his hand, “Why not just kill me already?”

T’Challa could not help but said, “Because they attended to Okoye’s plea to let you live as a weapon maker under Dora Milaje’s command if and only if she accepted the charges.” He observed W’Kabi reaction with sharp gaze, “She will be suspended for an unknown duration, divorce you and will be banned to talk to you until she is allowed to.”

Words chocked in his throat, W’Kabi said in a broken voice, “So… I will live, live by her side but can not talk to her?! No... she shouldn’t have…”

“This visit is also her request.” T’Challa said, official but gently regretful, “She can’t do it herself as it grieved her harshly that after everything, she felt she had never entered your heart.”

Hands shaking with the jingling from the chain, W’Kabi whispered, “That is not true. I regret deeply about letting her down but…” Holding back the tears glistening his eyes, he determined, “It’s live free, or die!”

T’Challa gripped his fists, knuckles white, “Enough of this! You fought by his side for only several hours and now you’ve already sounded like him.” He lowered his voice, restrained in fury, “Do you ever know how much she wants you alive? DO YOU?!”

T’Challa didn’t even know it was him talking on behalf of a friend or, it was him talking about himself whining for someone long lost. He saw himself in Okoye, who had waited anxiously outside the hall, dreading death would be brought upon to her husband while doubting the love she still had for him despite of his treachery. He saw himself in W’Kabi, who was dazed, wandering between a life to be given by the sacrifice of his dearest one and a wish to die for a zero-sum game. He saw himself in every family that lost their loved ones. The tears, the sorrow and the grief fused into a pile of ashes shrouding on a land that was hard to heal. It was such a turmoil for him that he was sick in his gut. 

“Do you want to know what I said to Bast?”

Eventually, W’Kabi asked.

T’Challa raised his voice, “Yes?”

Standing still in silence for a while, W’Kabi lifted his head, turning to the seemingly endless grassland, “I have asked her every day since I was here, if I could ever be with Okoye again.”

 “Now, you have the answer.” T’Challa replied.

Among thousands of wishes to keep someone alive, though his shattered, at least Okoye’s had been granted.

 

 

He was going to be late, not that he wanted to.

T’Challa hurried to the place and stopped at the alley beside the door of the restaurant, supporting himself backing against the cold brick wall, panting like a fish dried in a dessert. He took some time, dizzy in the delayed effect from traveling through the portal Stephen had opened for him.

He blinked his eyes, managing to straight up with a kind of stagger. Across the twinkle of the street lights, he saw him——Adonis had just arrived, ushered by an elder attendant at the entrance to the table he had booked. The elder took his coat before moving the chair for him.

_“Step one completed.” Stephen said, one hand drawing a circle of sparkling scripture in the air, “The next trip will require more power from you.”_

Much of his Black Panther power had been drained for the traveling across dimensions and it was not the only price he had to pay. Besides, since he had taken the last hear-shape herb to fight Erik after the whole garden had been burned down, there was no way to refuel before Shuri rebuilt the garden with his blood sample. Tired and nauseous, he was afraid he was going to fall regardless that he kept telling himself that it was just a sudden timid.

_I have to be there, to be with him._

A hand trailing down from behind on the upper back led Adonis to turn around. With a wave of grass and cool breath hugging him, he heard T’Challa approaching. His eye balls oscillated at the rustling from his suit as T’Challa hand brushed along his shoulder. His sponsor finally arrived, in an ensemble of long black coat outside a white high-collar cotton shirt of which the shoulder line was weaved with silver totem.

When he set down, Adonis caught a glimpse of his hands trembling. He stared at his face where fatigue and haze coincided, frowned. The same exhaustion on T’Challa he had seen every time they met was getting worse. But before he could try to get a closer look, T’Challa had forced an apologetic smile.

“Sorry I am late,” said T’Challa, wary in a brief smile.

Adonis shrugged, hands folded on his lap, “Naw, no sweat man. I just got here.”

Adjusting his position, T’Challa asked, “How is your day?”

“Great.” Adonis answered shortly, bending down to settle the wrinkles of his suit.

T’Challa went further, “Your teeth?”

Adonis posed an agonized face, “Ah...almost as great as when I got hit.”

The way Adonis put it made T’Challa frown. He questioned in an almost dangerous tone, “Is it because of the doctor? If it is I swear...”

Adonis cut him off with a chuckle, “Stop man, you are scaring me.” He unfolded the napkin, “It is just the operation and anesthetic... I am a little dizzy. ’S all.”

T’Challa let out a sigh, following the young man to unfold his own napkin, “Take your time. The next match has not been scheduled yet.”

Adonis nodded, touching his teeth with two fingers, “And, somebody posted a pic of my teeth on Facebook and it was like boom! There are so many likes.”

T’Challa raised one of his brows, narrowing his eyes at Adonis’s hands, interested, “So you like it.”

Adonis pouted his lips, “Ye-ah...” Adonis said slyly, two gold teeth shining behind his lower lips. “Sort of.”

While Adonis was talking, T’Challa couldn’t stop but maneuvering his sight all over his face. Right elbow setting on the table and the hand tapping at his lower jaw, his eyes ran from his upper lip, over the space between his dentals and then landed on the two sparkles. _Sexy_ was not the only word to cover it. They were just installed in a set of perfect skeletons.

_Bast, they are BEAUTIFUL._

With a short while of taste, T’Challa noticed something he hadn’t before. When Adonis raised his hand to call the attendant behind T’Challa, his eyes were lightened up by the candle standing in the middle between their plates and wine.

_No. Something is not right._

He didn’t have the eyes of Erik. Seen from T’Challa’s side, the candle cast a halo onto his cornea, revealing nothing but a stretch of...

_Light._

The thing that didn’t belong to Erik’s eyes was never supposed to surface. Having been through the tragedy of his father, the brightness of this world had denied him. He had been too busy staying alive on his own, fighting his way out of the system, wearying of someone taking away everything he had struggled to earn. Therefore, whenever they had encountered, T’Challa had read only a pond of sinister and ruthless in Erik’s eyes, which had cut him deeply.

Wait, it was the point, was it not?

T’Challa suddenly understand why Stephen had called Adonis “the perfect shell”. Adonis was not only perfect for Erik, but also for him.

He found the thing that he had wanted to insert into Erik’s life in order that he could erase part of his torturing past that made him who he was today. At first sight, it seemed that no matter how much he had tried to project his cousin onto this body, the core still rejected its container.

But when the ritual was done, there would be a perfect Erik.

“The hell ya doing bruh?” Adonis asked beneath his breath.

As if awaken by an alarm clock, T’Challa responded numbly, “What? I...”

Adonis judged him, “You heard me.”

Knife hanging half way to cutting the steak, Adonis shot a look at T’Challa, sullenly. Although the steaks and soup had been served just in time, steaming warmly, none of them were interested in eating. Adonis relied on the back of the chair, loosing his tie while peering T’Challa intensively. Brows rising, he took several breaths, waiting for T’Challa’s answer. Seeing the rock-hard chest rising and falling beneath that snugly fitting baby-blue shirt, T’Challa retreated to look at another direction like a deer caught in the headlights.

“Ya staring at my eyes like you prefer to eat’m.”

Adonis put the knife down, letting it bang with the plate to give out a tinkling note.

Though people around them followed the noise, piercing from distance, Adonis didn’t let him get off that easy. Inspected by the young man’s eyes, T’Challa found out that his being late might have given extra time to Adonis to think about how all of these had happened to him, piecing together all the clues and traces. Adonis had learned how to see through him based on his behavior and words.

T’Challa stuttered, “I was just thinking that... in your eyes...”

“Man... first my teeth and now my eyes?” Adonis said, obviously not convinced.

A prey cornered by a young predator, T’Challa held this breath, shuddering to Adonis’s compelling fixation and the excitement aroused by it in his own mind. He had already been attracted to the light in Adonis’s eyes, but when the light flickered with precariousness, it amazed him even more strikingly. So conflicting was his heart, he wanted to live this moment forever. However, worried that Adonis might have suspected his intention, he still had to say something.

T’Challa flashed a gentle smile, reaching a hand to place Adonis’s knife back on its own location, “Donnie, calm down,” he tried to appease him, “I will not do anything to your eyes. I promise.”

When he finished, T’Challa saw Adonis’s tensed body relax. The young man smiled softly, clearing his throat. T’Challa swallowed hard, feeling the sweat on his hands sinking into the velvet on the casket in his nervous palms. He wouldn’t dare to give _it_ to him now.

“Fine, just...don’t, don’t ever go there again...” Chocked out a laugh, Adonis said. He shook his head before picking up the knife to cut the meat, “God I must’ve lost my damn mind receiving that operation.”

“You just said you liked it…” T’Challa took a sip from his wine, holding the glass up close to his lips, “Don’t take it back now.”

Adonis cut a slice out from the whole steak, “It’s just... I never got used to get so much attention outside of the ring.”

“You are going to be something greater.” T’Challa added in a careful tenderness, “You got it in you. Never deny it.”

Eyes down, Adonis said, “Ya ain’t know nothing ’bout me. I am always trouble.”

Forearms crossed on the table, T’Challa  leaned in, “You will be fine. Rocky takes good care of you.”

“Yeah.” Adonis seemed stung by T’Challa’s words as he leaned back, emptying his glass with a big gulp. “Doubt he gon give a shit about me.”

“You don’t mean that…”

“Look who I found.” A strange and high-pitched voice rang next to T’Challa.

A bold-headed man in a gray scrappy suit stopped at their table. Junior had passed them already but he suddenly recognized a familiar face from the customers. He came closer and said,  

“My lucky day.”

Adonis swore, “Shit.”

“Adonis Johnson in the fresh.” Junior said with a crooked smile before turning to look at T’Challa, “Oh my, new sponsor is here too.”

T’Challa inhaled, reading faces between Adonis and Junior Western. He recognized this man as he barged in. He was a close friend of R. J. Tyron, who had been sending “death threats” to Adonis’s phone and Facebook page since Tyron had been beat. No one actually took it seriously because that was boxing was like, fighters biting at each other added more fun to the match. It was a warm-up before every game. 

“Someone please show this man the door.” Adonis rolled his eyes.

“Aw...that hurts,” Junior pursed his lips. “Did I just run into your little rendezvous?”

T’Challa started, “Mister...”

Junior shot an unfriendly eye to T’Challa and scorned, “Don’t mister me, I ain’t talking to you.”

T’Challa saw Adonis lick his teeth, the two gold teeth pointing against his tongue. As the table legs hit the floor with a thud, Adonis pushed the chair away, forcing himself onto the intruder’s face. He took a glance at T’Challa, fists clenched, seemingly reluctant to cause an offensive scene to his eyes.

“’m having dinner with my friend here, not appreciate you poppin’ up.” Adonis said, warning air blown through his nostrils.

However, Junior didn’t get the message, “Ya’ll hard up huh? You got some shit luck taking down R. J. in the ring but I don’t think you gon make a scene in here.”

Adonis bit his teeth and took a step closer, hissing at Junior’s ear, “Get the fuck outta my face before I make you.”

The man paused for a moment, and then burst into laughs loud enough to draw people’s attention.

“Don’t be a drama queen, BABY CREED.”

T’Challa sensed a storm coming, a storm he was unable to stop.

As the final word dropped, Junior felt his neck grabbed by a strong hand before his face smashed into the table. Adonis held his neck like picking up a chicken, no matter how noisy the thing under his hand was going to be, he was confident he could shut it up. Baring his teeth behind compressed lips, Adonis enjoyed this scene he was making——Junior pinched down, mouth sandwiched between cheek and the hard table, was unable to make any sound calling for help except for puking white bubbles. The tables and chairs around them shuffled, people yelled and exclaimed, but no one had the courage to stop Adonis. He was utterly brutal and resolute.

Eyes burning with fire, he twisted the man’s right arm around against his back with another hand and thrusted his whole upper body onto the table. With a bam, all the drinks and food was knocked over to the floor. The guards waiting outside heard the annoyance inside, rushed in only to find Adonis pinching down a wailing man on a colorful table.  They tried to tear Adonis away but he was too hard to pull off so it had to take both of them to hold Adonis down. It only lasted for a few seconds before Adonis rose up again and punched one of them in the gut. Another guard reacted, hitting Adonis in his cheek. Taking the hit, a bruise blasted on Adonis’s cheekbone. He looked up, red eyes gleaming like blood. He pounced on the guard with a roar and chocked him from behind like he was not allowed to in the ring.

The bloodshed Erik had directed flashed back into his mind, T’Challa flinched at the thought of rubbing his cousin into Adonis. He couldn’t even distinguish him from Erik in avenging wrath now.

“No! Eri...”

As soon as T’Challa cried out, the elder attendant that had welcomed Adonis in rushed over to separate him from those entangled men. T’Challa was held back by the crowd at once. He tried his best to break free but the lady on high heels getting in his way just didn’t want move, even fainted in his arms. Police waved batons in seconds later as the restaurant was filled with terrified people.

Trapped in rambling customers, flashing lights and blaring sirens, T’Challa watched Adonis freed himself out of the bodyguards, standing up with one hand wiping off the blood on the corner of his lips like he just had a splendid feast.

 

 

 

It was almost dawn when T’Challa finished the witness statement. A trace of pale sunlight struggled out of the horizon, climbing up along the skyscrapers on the other side. Adonis was lucky by getting away with minor disturbing of public peace and Junior had not pressed charges. As soon as he walked out of the office, he called someone he couldn’t when he was busy talking to the police.

Fifteen minutes later, Rocky arrived. He seemed even more tired than himself and T’Challa knew he was not feeling well.

Getting out of the taxi, Rocky let out a long sigh before he spoke up.

“Thanks again, for calling.”

T’Challa said quietly, “There is nothing to thank me for.”

“He is not always like this…” said Rocky in a mournful voice, “He just...”

“I know.” T’Challa stepped down from the entrance. A shot of pain crossed his face, “I’ve already paid the bail. He will be released in just a minute.”

Rocky nodded, “Appreciate it man, Ya comin’?”

T’Challa shook his head, “No, I have to go.” He put a hand on Rocky’s shoulder, tightening his grip. “He needs you.”

Rocky didn’t respond, just nodded again before disappearing behind the door.

“Time to go home, sire.”

Stephen showed up across the street, walking towards him with one hand circling in the air until a ring of fire surrounded his fingers.

T’Challa didn’t move, gazing at the rising sun at the end of the street.

“Oh dear,” Stephen slowed down, searching T’Challa’s eyes, “You are having second thoughts.”

“No!” T’Challa retorted, “I just...want to take a minute. I did everything you instructed me to do.”

“We are running out of time, T’Challa.” Stephen threw away the ring he had just drawn, striding to T’Challa’s side, “Your cousin is becoming more and more impatient.”

“What do you mean? I thought you said Erik hadn’t...” T’Challa’s stomach twisted at the idea that jumped into his head, he concluded, “He lied.”

Adopting a concerned tone, Stephen said, “He is coming after the shell himself. Another sorcerer might be helping…”

Before he could finish his line, Adonis stepped out of the station. Stephen had to concealed himself into his rolling cape to become invisible.

Seeing that Rocky didn’t come out with Adonis, T’Challa knew their conversation had not gone well. A growing sense of despair strangled him from inside.

Adonis walked down to T’Challa, one step at a time, “I upset you too right? Y’ leaving.”

T’Challa grabbed his arm as Adonis intended to just walk past him, leading him away from Stephen’s location, “Oh no no no,” He bit his tongue as Adonis plucked off his hand almost immediately as soon as they stopped, “Don’t you say that. I am not leaving you.”

Adonis held out his hands, smiling faintly, “I... I can’t even recognize myself, or you.” His eyes were filled with tears he was trying to hold back, voice crumbling, “What do ya’ll want from me?! Ya’ll just showed up and... gone.”

“Donnie, don’t...I am sorry.”

“Don’t even know what you are sorry for.”

_No, I know._

 “You are confused, you just had a good fight.” T’Challa sucked in a breath, feeling his heart beating faster into chaos, “Of course you can recognize yourself, I can recognize you.”

Adonis bit out, “Ya say it because you are my sponsor. If I fail, you fail.”

“No matter what you think I am to you but I see you as YOU, not your past or your father.” Although cut in the core by Adonis’s words, T’Challa kept looking into Adonis’s eyes until he couldn’t feel the sore, “Name is only symbol, the person owning it is what matters most.”

Adonis clicked his tongue, looking away, “Tsk. How many times you practiced this shit man?”

“Just several thousand times.” T’Challa chuckled, extending his hands to flatten Adonis’s collar. “You mean a lot to the people around you.”

This time, Adonis didn’t turn down his hands. “Will you be there?” He husked, “My training tomorrow night?”

T’Challa’s hands paused there and then slid down back to his pocket, “I am afraid I can’t.”

He took out the velvet casket and opened it quickly. “But now, I want you to have this,” he said, “Whenever you put these on, they may remind you, I am always there.”

Adonis backed away for a bit, feeling a cold structure hook onto his auricle. “You said you ain’t gon do nothing to my eyes.” He found T’Challa had put something onto his nose. To be specific, it was a pair of golden-framed glasses which artfully covered the bruise on his cheekbone.

He grinded his teeth, “Liar.”

T’Challa shrugged, a wicked curve lifting the corner of his mouth, “I may tell a lie or two.”

Adjusting the frame of the glasses, Adonis said wryly, “Careful. Karma is a bitch.”

T’Challa sighed, “Is there anything else I can do for you before we see each other again?”

“Yeah, one question.” Adonis tilted his head, tone flat.

“Who is Erik?”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow this chapter took longer than I had expected.  
> And it is indeed longer...in word counts.  
> Sorry for the delayed post, I've been busy doing my graduate project.  
> Thank you all for reading this far. There are so many beautiful works out there and I am so lucky that someone find their way into reading my story.  
> Kudos and comments are welcomed! Can't wait to see what you think about this chapter!
> 
> Have a good day!


	5. Tattoo I

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Step 3 (Final): Project the spirit into his mind.  
> The time line is set between the time Rocky began to receive chemotherapy and the time Adonis took his father's name.  
> WARNING: This chapter is very very very dark. It is a chapter in which Adonis took control and T'Challa paid the steep price.  
> I need to tell you guys it is a critical part of this story after which there will be a big twist because Chapter 7-8 will proceed on the basis of the Infinity War.  
> PS: Sorry I forgot to tell you guys that the word counts of this chapter went crazy so this part (or chapter) is divided into two parts so there will be a Tattoo II in the next update.
> 
> Kudos and comments are very very welcomed! Please share your thoughts with me!  
> Thank you all!

He heard two men talking next to him as he sensed himself lying down within a pair of strong arms, breathing in the sweetness coming from the person’s chest. A moment later, he was laid further down with his head held gently to the person’s lap. 

_"Wha...you... to... him?"_

_"Ehh..., knocked him...out?"_

A hand touched his forehead, easing the tension between his brows and then cruising from his nose to his lips. The fingers which were cooler than his, illustrated his stubbles relentlessly, too indulged to leave. 

They were too fantabulous to be true, making him want to persuade them to stay. His chest twitched at it.

But when he opened his eyes, he was not in anybody’s arms. He was walking in his neighborhood like he always did. The images were stripped out of his brain. 

_What just happened?_

There was no one there when he turned around. As the talking faded away, Adonis shook his head, paying attention to the traffic ahead. Turning left in a crossroad, he bumped into a small alley which he found unexpectedly familiar. Although it looked like he was going into the an unintended direction, he still kept going. Several minutes later, he paused at a tall apartment building in front of which there was a parking lot and a small playground. 

_"...Bast.”_

_“.... prefer that he.... asking.... cousin?"_

The talking was back again, but just as the same as the last time he had looked back, there was no one. It should’ve been alarming for him, but something more important was encouraging him to ignore it. 

_"This is ridiculous. You’d better not hurt his head."_

_"Relax. I hit him with a spell..."_

This time, his hearing was clearer as he tried to focus on the tribal accent in the chatter to understand what they were arguing. However, the utterances were soon interrupted by a wave of enormous gaggle. He heard boys laughing and making jokes on each other within the perimeter. They seemed playing basketball or something. He stopped at the wire net surrounding the playground where he found nothing but cold wind and grayish dust. The emptiness didn’t bother him though. On the contrary, he felt that he had lived there for a considerably long time.

He found himself being one of the kids playing, laughing with his friends until he looked up at the sky where a giant alien warship exhausted strong steam onto the roof, climbed up through heavy clouds and then disappeared. 

Confused and dismayed, he couldn’t stop staring at it until his neck was sore.

_Where should I go?_

Adonis’s footsteps answered the question for him as they guided him into the building entrance. He didn’t have to look which floor he was going to because his legs had decided for him. 

A black stained door appeared in front of him. His hands moved quicker than he could even think, opening the door with a key which just magically presented itself in his palm. 

 

 

 

It was a dark but cozy apartment with two sets of sofas not far away from the window. Following a buzzing voice in his head, Adonis walked up to the bookshelf beside one sofa, reaching for a large hardcover book.

The moment he touched the spine, the book was taken out from the other side. A weird mask appeared in the gap. From the back of the bookshelf, a man as tall as him brought the book to the front. 

It was so out of ordinary but also rational for Adonis as he found the man’s face hidden behind a beast-likes sculpted mask with two long horns sticking out and luxuriant gray fur decorating around in a circle. The man was wearing an army armor vest which stifled his tight long-sleeve navy blue shirt inside. He closed in, moving his long legs, as if he was soldiering. Adonis noticed his Camouflage cargo pants tugged into his dusted army boots. Hands clamped behind his back with shoulders shrugging up as if going to break someone’s neck, the man walked in firm and loud steps against the wooden floor.

_What is going on?_

Adonis asked, “Who are you?” 

The man burst out a laugh, as if he had heard the most terrible joke in his life.

“The fuck is wrong with you?” Adonis frowned, offended by the man’s attitude.

“W’ the fuck is wrong? I am stuck in my dad’s place alone for who the fuck knows how long and you, is my way outta here.” The man replied leisurely, quite amused at his words.

“Ya confusing me with some other dude man.” Adonis mocked.

“Tsk. At first, I don’t know why he chose you, not that I give a fuck but damn...” he came closer, strolling around him, sizing up his teeth and glasses. “He really has this thing for bad boys.

Adonis followed the man’s action with his eyes but didn’t move, “Who the hell y’ talking ’bout now?”

“Don’t play no dumb on me again Donnie,” said the man pitifully, “Is there another sugar daddy in your life?”

The man’s voice hovered in his head. An answer escape from his mouth before he could hold it.

“T’Challa?” Adonis sounded out.

“Never felt suspicious? A guy came out of nowhere and offered me a bunch of bills to do what I like. Am I like...his thing now?” As if reciting his favorite quote from a movie, he used the same tone as Adonis had talked to Rocky the other day.

Eyes wide open, Adonis questioned, “How do you...”

“Yeah. I know everything in your little head now bruh.” He pointed at Adonis’s heart and then to his temple. “Like EVERYTHING”. 

Adonis stared at the man’s eyes behind the mask, “What do you want from me?”

“Ah... How many times I gotta explain this...” Shaking his head, the man said impatiently.

“What?” Adonis stuttered.

“Not me man. It’s T’Challa. He wants you dead so I can live,” The man stated in playful voice, removing the mask. “In your body.”

Seeing the man’s face, Adonis howled, “What the hell?!”  

“It’ll be all over soon. My man told me, y’ gon feel no pain at all.” The same face as his posed a massive grin. “Shame though. I know you want’m but... Don’t worry, I will exercise your will afterwards, make him beg for it.”

Adonis held up and said, “Why not come closer so we can see who’s gon be the last one standing.”

The man smiled, provoking, “Y’ got some anger in you. I see that. But a perfect body for me? Naw...ya not even close.”

“Y’ better not…” Adonis’s voice was cut off by the man’s grip by his collar.

“I know you man, you are using him too.” Although Adonis was a grown man, the other guy still handled him easily. “He gives you everything you want to satisfy his hypocritical guilt and you don’t have to pay’m back. Ya’ll so pathetic.”

“What... Shit! Get your hands off me.” Adonis tried to remove his hands, but he failed. “Fuck off! So what?! He never hurt me!”

“Shit. He got you pretty messed up! Y’ gonna die for’m?”

“Don’t think I don’t know you too, ERIK.” Adonis grounded his teeth in disgust, “Yeah, T’Challa might be the one that took you down but I bet you were the one that held his hands to do it.”

At first, it was just one dream. 

But later, there were more.

That was his name, Erik, a name echoing behind his head from time to time ever since the day he had met T’Challa. It was the final piece of the puzzle. He had wondered why this name would emerge as he didn’t know any Erik and he always seemed to forget about it when he didn’t pay attention. But that day he had caught T’Challa crying out this name, he had known what he had dreamed about was real.

Erik wanted T’Challa’s beautiful brain thinking about him all day. He wanted his merciful eyes crying for him all night. He wanted his strong heart aching for him for forever.  

Because T’Challa owed him. 

“Watch it, boy.” Erik seized him by his throat, “I can tell the sorcerer to crush you in to pieces right the fuck now.”

“The hell ya gon do that. You need me. You need to see T’Challa through me you motherfucker.” Adonis fixed his eyes on the man’s under his nose, “Me and him, we have a bond now. As soon as you know how much he wants me, you begin to want him the same way!”

“That’s how he gets you man! Y’ still ain’t see that?!” Erik loosened his grip and threw the young man onto the sofa, “He makes you think you are special and then bam! He slaps his hands and ya done. HE KILLED ME!”

Adonis took Erik’s emotions all into himself.

Strong sorrow and pain suddenly shot into his heart like a sword stabbing through his torso. He looked down in shock, seeing a pond of blood blossom in the middle of his chest. So raw were the wound and laceration, he began to cough. He stumbled forward until his knees kissed the carpet and slipped down onto the floor. Covering the blood on his shirt with one hand, Adonis kept coughing for several times but nothing came out of his mouth. Erik looked down upon him, like watching a bleeding animal but having absolutely no intention to do any first aid. He just stood there, hands sill folded behind his back, waiting Adonis to step up by himself.

It was the first time Adonis felt someone’s death with his own body.

A moment later, he looked up at the man, a drop of tear broke out of his right eye as his whole heart quaked at this word, _kill_. 

The more Adonis thought about this word, the more miserable he became. He didn’t know what exactly had happened between Erik and T’Challa but somehow, he knew T’Challa had brought much hardship to the man in front of him. On this assertion, at this moment, he harmonized in this man’s urge to destroy, to ruin and to erase everyone who had laid hands on him. What he felt in this man’s mind was dark but...

_What kind of monster would snatch a living body to contain a soul anyway?_

Adonis had been trying to make peace with the past, with his father by focusing something more important for himself in his life. He had once worried that he would fail but he still tried. Boxing had brought him back to life again, a life later better modified by Rocky. That stubborn old man was not in his game because of the cancer but he would help him to be on his feet as longer as he could. When he thought of Rocky, he thought about T’Challa, about how he supported him by recognizing him for who he was. He was one of the reasons he wanted to evolve, to move on, to see the other side of the world, to discover uncharted parts of himself. 

However, the patience, the whisper, the touch, the generosity... he did them all for Erik. It was too overwhelming for Adonis to process when the only thing he had in his mind was doubt. He might have the answer now, to how hurt it was, trying to fight for someone other than himself in the ring and it turned out it was all for nothing. What T’Challa had been talking about not caring about winning or losing was due to his own agenda. Adonis came to light that it had always been about Erik, not Adonis. He should have known, he wouldn’t get that much attention outside of the ring. 

T’Challa was no exception.

_So, all of these are...not real._

Adonis muttered incoherently, “It’s not fair...”

“’S right. Y’a gotta pay’m back.” Erik proceeded, “Focus on yourself, follow your rage.”

Adonis repeated as if sleeptalking, “Pay...”

Holding his chin up, Erik licked his gold teeth, “After all the conversations we’ve had in here,” he paused there in satisfaction, “You finally listen.”

 

 

 

“Hey, wake up kid. Smile.”

Adonis turned away as Rocky nudged him to face to a young girl’s smartphone. This one might just be a starter since more unfamiliar faces with credentials saying “press” hanging around their necks would follow. Their hungry eyes stung Adonis right away when they forced their cameras onto his face. Being noticed was one of his dreams when he had started to get into boxing but actually being in this kind of situation made him uncomfortable. And he was worried about Rocky putting himself in such a crowded area. He had talked him into receiving chemotherapy but he just was just getting started. Since the last time Rocky had collapsed in the gym, he couldn’t stop thinking that it would happen again. Back then, he hadn’t known it was cancer but now he just wanted him to get as much rest as possible. But despite of all this, Rocky seemed happy to see Adonis being recognized by more and more people.

Adonis grabbed his coach’s arm, “C’mon Roc. We gotta get into the building.”

Rocky grinned to calm him, “People love you.”

Adonis kept walking, “Nah, they just want a piece of me to make news.”

Cameras picked him up quicker than before, after the match he had won over Tyron and the fight he had got himself into in that restaurant. He seemed becoming part of people’s heated conversation now, which made him rather hard to digest. A little bit of lone time would lighten up his mood but it was impossible since he had to show up for a short radio interview to let the fans and whoever had some interest in him know what plan he had for the future. There would be questions to be answered even though he didn’t feel like talking about himself. 

Adonis kept his head down, walking quickly on the sidewalk towards the studio. Seeing the cameras surrounding Adonis, people began to realize they had someone important in town so they all stared at Adonis and Rocky as they passed by, whispering to their friends or examining them with their own eyes. Adonis had to tell himself that this torture would be over in ten minutes to restrain him from breaking loose with the photographer still tailing them.

“Please gentlemen, give the young man some space.”

There was an instant shout coming from the crowd as someone arrived. It was T’Challa who was taking evenly paced steps from the other side. He came with his iconic vibe, wearing a set of black suits outside of a V-neck white shirt with a piece of purple scarf tugged into the collar lines. He didn’t hesitate, standing in front of the unexpected cameras hidden behind the front door of the studio. While lifting up his arm to block the poking camera hands, he still left some space for the lenses to catch some part of Adonis as he walked towards the building. 

T’Challa greeted with a smile, “Afternoon.”

It was new to Adonis, meeting T’Challa in broad daylight, seeing the sunshine dance in shinny sparkles on his curly short hair. 

Adonis wanted to keep focusing on the way ahead but his eyes couldn’t help but chasing back to the man behind him. He wanted to ask him something, but the question always slipped his mind when he tried to grasp it. That made him even more perturbed at the present situation.

He tried to picture the last time he had seen him to look for clues but his memory was clouded by a maze of dense frog. He couldn’t remember the last thing they had talked about when they had said goodbye to each other. But now he was too frustrated to cope with people’s attention so he had to wave this thought aside. 

 

To be continued. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delayed post, still working on my graduate project... (tears  
> Thank you all for reading this far. There are lots of anger in this chapter but it is necessary. I promise they will be fine!
> 
> PS: Sorry I forgot to tell you guys that the word counts of this chapter went crazy so this part (or chapter) is divided into two parts so there will be a Tatoo II in the next update.
> 
> Kudos and comments are welcomed! Can't wait to see what you think about this chapter!  
> Have a good day!


	6. Tattoo II

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Step 3 (Final): Project the spirit into his mind.  
> The time line is set between the time Rocky began to receive chemotherapy and the time Adonis took his father's name.  
> WARNING: This chapter is still very very very dark. It is a chapter in which Adonis took control and T'Challa paid the steep price.  
> Please stay tuned for Chapter 7-8 which are based on the Infinity War.
> 
> Kudos and comments are very very welcomed! Please share your thoughts with me!  
> Thank you all!

The sun at noon was a burning torch, cooking the whole street like crazy. The man smiled at him, grabbing his elbow to escort him into the hall, not slightly affected by the inferno. Adonis looked into the man’s eyes through the glasses T’Challa had given him when he had left the city jail. It was a strange gift for sure no matter how much T’Challa intended it to be normal. He didn’t know why and when he had put these on. He forgot things lately.

T’Challa looked at him with one hand attached to the young man’s back, “Different view outside the ring, isn’t it?”

Adonis replied shortly, “Yeah. Different.” He was not really listening to what he had said.

The brown eyes were awakened up from tiredness as soon as they met adonis’s, greeting his inquiry sight with gentle assurance. Refreshing sunshine beamed on the man’s chest as a corner of his scarf sneaked out of his open collar, fusing into the golden fine threads on the surface. 

“Still, not a good idea to stay outside in this weather.” T’Challa put a bottle of cool water into Adonis’s hand.

“Didn’t expect we would meet at daytime.” Adonis passed down the bottle to Rocky who had already got one from T’Challa before.

“Well. I try to make time for you.” T’Challa said, eyes glittering with sparkles, “By the way, the glasses look good on you.”

That was when Adonis yanked T’Challa’s hand away. Rejected, the man stood motionless for a minute but soon followed Adonis’s quickened steps up to the stairs. Unlike before, this time Adonis felt the man’s touch too purposeful. 

“I can walk on my own.” Adonis glared back at him while walking up, annoyed.

T’Challa cried out, “Watch it!”

Adonis reacted as soon as T’Challa warned him, halting in front of the journalist who had been waiting for him around the turning. He let the guy take several pictures, scowling at the man’s camera.  

The journalist threw a hand to Adonis’s face, holding a recorder, “Quick question?”

Adonis frowned, adjusting one of his cuffs, “Better be quick then.”

“Why the glasses? Last time it was just gold teeth.”

Out of the corner of his eye, Adonis took a quick glance at T’Challa. To his expect, T’Challa, as the one who put this thing onto his nose, was not going to answer the question for him. He just watched him with a smirk, seemingly as interested as the journalist in what he was going to say to answer the question. 

“I don’t know.” 

In front of the staring eyes of T’Challa, he took off the glasses and cracked them in half.

“Guess you ain’t gon know either.” This being said, he turned to Rocky, “Roc, get some rest downstairs. ’M fine on my own.”

Rocky shook his head, sighing and shrugging his way down the stairs. The journalist was confused, but he had got enough from Adonis so he ran down the stairs to go after Rocky for further information. 

It was only him and T’Challa on the stairs right now. They judged each other between several steps. Adonis didn’t know what T’Challa saw in his eyes now, but he was neither agitated nor totally unmoved. It would be too ignorant for someone like T’Challa to not get the message. T’Challa looked down for a moment before staring up at Adonis, life flowing out of his pale face. It was a kind of emotion he had never seen in T’Challa’s eyes.

Part of he began to wonder if he had gone too far but… Actually, breaking that perfect smile of T’Challa was igniting. 

He broke the gaze, entering the live room on his own.

 

 

Hanging up the call to Rocky, Adonis walked out of the studio. Rocky was on his way to the hospital for some test they demanded him to do to make sure he could proceed to supervise his next session of training. Adonis realized he had lost track of time when he exited the building, seeing the torturing sun in the afternoon had grown even stronger than noon. A sharp pain came from his left wrist as he pulled his hands out of his pocket with too much force. He cursed his pants in his mind, wondering out of the sidewalk to another direction.

Adonis didn’t know where to go, just strolling to where his feet took him. As he walked through a plaza, a sharp noise drilled into his skull. He fell backwards down to the edge of a fountain, panting, looking himself on the water. 

He saw something.

“What do you see?” From behind came a soft voice.

Adonis thought for a while, an idea came to his mind. 

“Why not you tell me?” Adonis asked in reply.

He didn’t look back, just hearing the man approaching from behind. Tapping footsteps scared away all the pigeons in a whirring of wings. 

Adonis finally turned around. Several pigeons landed back on the marble floor in the plaza, tilting and nodding their little heads around T’Challa’s shoes.

As Adonis looked up, his eyes were immediately dazzled in a luminous beam reflected by a pair of sharp nails. T’Challa came at him in a few quick steps with one of his claws cutting through his left side. Hearing the sound of claws tearing the airflow close to him, at this very moment, Adonis thought about running away but...

The next thing he knew, he caught T’Challa’s hand instinctively with his left hand. He had not expected he would take a force like that but he did it. T’Challa’s was astonished, hand trembled in his palm, trying to break free. Adonis could count the pulses from T’Challa’s veins with his hand. It seemed like his senses were stronger than they were. T’Challa was holding back, although his heartbeats had run off the charts. 

Even grunting in pain, T’Challa still managed to retain his presence of mind. Narrowing his eyes at Adonis, he bit his teeth.

“Get out of his body.” T’Challa demanded.

“Easy, T’Challa.”

T’Challa’s voice rang with fierce, “Don’t make me. Erik.”

The young man frowned at this name. Somehow, he knew from the way T’Challa called Erik, he would never use all he got on him. So he went with his gut, bending the man’s hand to another direction with strength he could never imagine. 

“Ah, him? Nah.” Adonis smiled, jerking his head forward, “I wouldn’t worry ’bout him now if I was you.”

T’Challa’s eyes were filled with disbelief at first and then, fright.

Adonis didn’t know which one was more frightening for T’Challa. The fact that he knew Erik was always there or the fact that Erik hadn’t taken over his body yet.

“’M still me,” Adonis announced in an indifferent tone. “But better.”

He felt his blood boiling in his system, rampaging against his skin. It was a pleasure to let loose because he suddenly found this was exactly what he had been painfully chasing for a while——to see someone suffer under his hands. The anger deep rooted in his heart told him to pay this pain back to T’Challa. And perhaps T’Challa was only a beginning, he could do more with this power and this will about the pay-back list in his pocket.

_To be something greater._

Uncertain about the young man’s state of mind, T’Challa didn’t want to hurt him until he saw things clearer. However, Adonis wanted to learn, how T’Challa would react if he tried something more excessive so he gripped his fist even harder until he could hear the fabric of his glove twitching among his fingers.

“You are lost, Donnie,” T’Challa roared in agony. “This is not you!”

“Gotta thank you though, for letting me on this little adventure.” Adonis pressed towards the man’s face, enjoying his rapid breaths. “To discover myself.”

T’Challa shouted, voice broken, “Don’t do this... You can fight it off.”

Adonis croaked, “Fight what? I thought ’s what you wanted, T.” He spoke out word by word, “Teeth, glasses, and the rage. You want all that in this body for’m, right?”

Adonis hoped T’Challa would say NO or at least say something trivial to fool around, but he didn’t. He realized it was because T’Challa couldn’t justify himself any longer. He even felt bad for him, seeing him unable to fence even a sloppy excuse to get freedom. But it was not the only thing he felt. 

_Why? Why do you all choose to hide the truth? I did everything you asked. Ain’t that not enough?_

There had been so many chances for T’Challa to come clean. All he wanted was an explanation, one that T’Challa just wouldn’t give to him. And the words about how things looked beautiful on him and about how he wanted him to be himself were so fragile in his memory because the reality had given them a smash when he wanted to retreive them.

Before T’Challa could strive another attack from below with another hand, Adonis caught it and wrapped around both of his hands outward T’Challa’s wrists, locking them together from both sides. T’Challa gasped sharply, but he still didn’t want to take Adonis down even though he could.

Suddenly, T’Challa asked with a heavy heart, eyes distending, “What is this?”

Raising his eyebrows, Adonis followed his gaze down at his left wrist, “What, this?”

It took T’Challa long enough to finally notice the plastic wrap around his left wrist on which a brand-new tattoo was still bleeding from the needles. Adonis wanted to hide it from the cameras so he had worn long sleeves to cover his wrist all day. He wanted to save this moment a little longer before he could show anyone else, but it was all meaningless now. The tighter Adonis clenched his hands, the more blood seeped from the ink and soon the plastic wrap was drenched in blood.

Bitter tears gathered in T’Challa’s eyes. 

Adonis released him.

“Why do you put yourself in harm’s way?” The instant his hands were free, he took Adonis’s wrist gently close to his eyes.

“I gotta count the wins and losses from now ya see?” Adonis explained, “If I can’t remember how much I’ve been through how the hell I can get it back?”

“No! This is Erik talking, not you!”

T’Challa’s cry really rocked Adonis’s heart. He covered his face with both hands in a way that Adonis couldn’t understand. T’Challa had liberated him, finished what he had started so what were the tears for? The only explanation was that, in the end, he was not Erik, he was not Adonis. He was not T’Challa had been looking for.

Erik was a liar, he still felt pain.

He took T’Challa into his arms so tight that he could match his heartbeats with him. The man froze against his chest.

“’S OK, T. You did it. Be proud.” Adonis said, round fingers wandering along the man’s nape. “Imagine what we can do with this kind of power.”

Hearing those familiar words again, T’Challa struggled, “No... Donnie, I’m so...”

“Don’t say sorry, T.”

After a beat, Adonis clutched his hand inhumanly hard at the back of the man’s head.

T’Challa held his breath. 

“Ain’t none of us gon forgive you anyway. ”

It was the last thing Adonis had said before he lost consciousness to a small thing sticking into his neck.

 

For a moment, T’Challa looked down at the man lying on the ground, having no idea what to do. Eventually, he picked him up and helped him sit up against the fountain.  He deactivated the needle in his Kimoyo Beeds before initiating remote communication.

“I told you daytime is not a go…” Stephen appeared from behind, stunned at the scene in the middle of the air, “What just happened?”

“I…” Waving his hands, T’Challa minced, “Might have just hurt this man’s head.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OK...SO T'Challa may or may not have succeeded in the transplant. But he kinda lost both of them.  
> More explanation regarding the ritual and the travel through dimensions will be provided in the next update.
> 
> See you soon!  
> Kudos and comments are very very welcomed! Please share your thoughts with me!


	7. Disconnect

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The time line is set close to when Adonis took his father's name.  
> Fight scene again! Adonis is a boxer, what can I say?  
> It is rather a satisfactory chapter (at least I hope to accomlish) becasue the storm passed.
> 
> Kudos and comments are very very welcomed! It is a chapter that is emotional and complicated. Please share your thoughts with me!  
> Thank you all!

_What have I done?_

The young man, eyes shut and breath shallow, lying unconscious on the hospital bed was a dreadful sight to bear. The Emergency had been told that there was a man found having a heatstroke, but he knew what exactly had happened. When they asked, he had felt reluctant even to say he was a friend.

“Is he OK?” Rocky asked the nurse outside.

Inside the Emergency Room next to Adonis’s bed, T’Challa knew it was time to go. As soon as he plucked himself from where he had been standing, the whole hospital went still.

Time seemed to stop at this moment.

A Mirror Universe was established by the Doctor’s weaving fingers for magic activities forbidden for commoners to see. It was the same library they had first discussed the matter of snatching the poor man’s body. But back then, the outcome present in front of them had not been foretold.

“Is it possible,” T’Challa asked, “To break the Bond?”

T’Challa traced a hand to Adonis’s forehead briefly, flinching at every little shudder of his eyelashes.

“Are you sure?” Stephen didn’t answer his question, “After months spent building connection to this man… What if he didn’t remember a thing when he wakes up?”

“Isn’t life always like this?” T’Challa said, dull eyes facing the higher window, “People show up… and gone?”

Outside the glass covered in arabesque veins expanded an obsidian sky. Life looked so small under thousands of whispering stars.

Stephen fell silent.

“Realities of life happen for a reason,” later, he said.

“So you didn’t stop me.” T’Challa looked down, grounding out.

“I have encountered, and will continue to encounter moments that I have to watch someone act in their most foolish ways.” Stephen said, lifting two hands in the air to draw several golden lines. “It is against the code to temper with TIME. I can try but what is going to happen, still happen.”

Estranged sparkles were extracted from Adonis’s mouth, the broken glasses next to his pillow and his wrist. Smoke of bright yellow weaves crept up from his gold teeth and was absorbed into the Doctor’s floating scripts. Eyes following the sparkles soaked into emptiness, every moment T’Challa had shared with this young man unwound in front of his eyes.

There had been time he froze while looking at Adonis. There had been time when the schedule was to see Adonis at midnight, he had already been overexcited since sunset. There had been time he hadn’t thought about his life on the other side. There had been time he cheered from the bottom of his heart in Philadelphia, where frantic crowd clustered with him to see his handsome champion. There had been time he indulged himself in those moments that he could take Adonis as his own.

The second wisp of smoke began to seep out of the glasses. T’Challa closed his eyes.

Adonis’s furtive face shinning with sweat when they first met. His unbendable determination when faced with an uncrackable opponent. His amused eyebrows when he said he wanted him to polish his manhood. His eyes, his beautiful eyes above the candle fire, always told the truth because he tried to live towards light.

His heart ached for it as he opened his eyes to witness the golden smoke from the tattoo cease into the air. The story of Adonis’s life had just begun with unlimited possibilities awaited. It would be better if he stayed away. He shouldn’t have walked in to his life just like that and brought much catastrophe to his identity. He was too indulged before he could realize things went out of control.

“You asked me if you could talk to your cousin the other day?” Stephen’s hands stopped, circling back to his chest.

“I sure did.” T’Challa stared at the dissipating smoke.

Stephen knocked off the script that consumed the smoke with a quick thrust and opened another one swiftly.

T’Challa felt his face pale as he saw a man who wore a blue sport jacket with white stripes appeared behind a huge illuminating halo in front of his eyes. In reality, he had bought the building behind him and two more next to it to build Wakanda’s diplomatic outpost. His cousin was alone, in his spiritual world, long lost again far away from their ancestors. Not in his war outfits or the Golden Panther suit, he looked younger than he remembered. Erik didn’t seem surprised at all to see him in the present occasion as if he had known this day would eventually come.

“You can have him for a moment,” Stephen said, his cape dragging him slowly back into shadows, “Make it count.”

“Hey cuz.” Erik smirked, stepping out of the halo like he had done this thousands of times, “’S been a while.”

He had known everything since he had been part of this for a long time but for some reason, he didn’t make fun of him on this matter the minute he had the chance. As if he was waiting for T’Challa to walk into the lion’s den himself.

But T’Challa fetched another topic that would definitely piss him off.

“Is...” T’Challa hesitated, “Is Uncle N’Jobu with you?”

“Naw… _Baba_ left,” Erik shrugged, “Don’t know where he is now.”

“He is with his brother.”

Hearing this, Erik stood mute for a moment.

And then he stared at T’Challa. “Is it some kinda sick joke?”

His roar broke through the air, echoing in the library. T’Challa turned his head away, eyes shut painfully. In order to find Erik, he had tried to look for him on the Land for many times. And one day, he had found someone he had not expected to see. Standing among their ancestors was his Erik’s father, N’Jobu. Legend had it, the Land as the attribution of soul, was the projection of the deceased’s mind. For the most Wakandans T’Challa had known, it would be the similar lands he had seen because no matter how far they had wandered away from Wakanda, they always returned to where their mind told them to. It was only when he had listened to N’Jobu’s explanation that he had realized Erik was left alone in a place he hadn’t known. It had made him even more desperate to bring him back.

“He will never...”

“He let it go,” T’Challa cut off, “But WE, didn’t.”

Erik stopped, frowning at his words.

“I, for one, was so desperate to bring you back, but now I see…” T’Challa continued, eyeing down at the young man on the other side, “All I did was just… ploughing the air.”

“Finally learned the lesson huh?” Erik scoffed, following his gaze, “You don’t even know why you are doing this anymore.”

“Because I won the fight at the cost of you!” T’Challa shouted, “I tried, I tried, Erik! To undo the past in another way!”

“There’s no another way!” Unexpected to himself, Erik found his eyes glassy, “Don’t try to bring me back. I ain’t gon walk among you in shackles!”

“But what about you Erik? Do you get what you were dying for? Are you a free man now?”

Erik bit his teeth, not responding. T’Challa saw it, no matter his cousin was alive or dead, the hatred still clung to him. He still weaved web around himself on his own.

“I killed you to set you free only to find out you are still… imprisoned,” T’Challa blinked, breaths unsteady, “What kind of brother am I?”

An unreadable expression crossed Erik’s face.  

“Don’t go soppy on me, T’Challa,” said Erik in a low voice, “’M allergic to tears.”

“I won’t bother you anymore.” T’Challa said, eyes down, “I hope you can at least let him go. You’ve put too many horrible ideas into Donnie’s head.”

Erik gripped his right arm to force T’Challa to look at him. In his cousin’s sad eyes, he found the lingering madness in his own too obvious.

“I ain’t care no fucking Donnie.” Erik said huskily. “I am not done with YOU yet, T’Challa!”

“I know, N’Jadaka.” T’Challa called him by his Wakandan name, softly, “With the help of Stephen’s former colleague, you could have killed me a hundred times.”

Erik’s hands shook like T’Challa’s sleeves were electrified.

“But you didn’t.”

The last clutch of fingers leaving, Erik yanked away his elbow.

“That brat may go back to normal again but ya still ain’t gon smile for long,” Erik stated, flickers of hidden concern shimmering in his eyes, “That black sorcerer said he saw something coming.”

“What is it?” T’Challa asked.

“Not sure,” Erik pursed his lips, “He said people would die.”

“A war then,” T’Challa flashed a wry smile anyway, “Well, at least we get to say goodbye.”

Erik said nothing, taking firm steps backwards to the halo.

“This ain’t no goodbye, brother,” back facing his cousin, he said over his shoulder in the closing halo, “Better come back with your shitty life so I can take it with my own hands.”

T’Challa understood it shall be a promise he ought to keep. If home was lost in its way to find her own blood, he would find them on her behalf any way he could.

 

 

 

Unlike the time with R. J. Tyron, among the crowd of folding arms, rubbing fists and wild gazes, T’Challa heard more people calling Adonis Johnson’s name. His fame was no longer printing slogans on the poster as his past few months in which he had made Tyron’s friend’s face colorful and his coach had taken short sick-leave had drawn much attention to his fighting records.

He had thought about not coming back, but his mind couldn’t help wondering back to Adonis when he received the text from Rocky informing about the coming new fight season. The opening was important for a rising fighter like Adonis Johnson. Rocky had told him Adonis was discharged from the hospital and everything went back to normal. T’Challa had spent whole nights behind the Doras’ back arranging this fight with Rocky who had been having hot coffee at 10 am on the other side.  

A touch of black and gold drifted into T’Challa’s right side, the young man in silk robe walked into their sight through his channel. The stadium was lit up with deafening cheer as Adonis’s opponent in purple walked out from the other side. Adonis’s face was hidden under the robe hood at first, shadowing his expressions under. But he was still a delight to the dark room because he was a star to the ring.

A moment later, spotlights opened up one by one in the wake of his tread above his short-cut hair. His white-bandaged hands lowering down the hood, rock music quickly joined his steps into hall. His fighter licked his teeth, a smirk appearing across his gold teeth.

T’Challa grabbed the rope with one hand.

And then Adonis’s head turned to his sponsor’s side.

“Don…” T’Challa started.

“T’Challa,” a wary smile appeared on Adonis’s face as he lazed at the rope from above, “Hey man listen, I broke the glasses the other day I don’t know why I…”

“It’s OK, I will get you new ones.” T’Challa responded quickly to not let Adonis finish. It was almost too automatic as if those words had been waiting impatiently for this moment to come out.

Since the day he had left Adonis’s side, time seemed to escape through his hands like quicksand. Day in and night out, T’Challa couldn’t quite get the numbers right. It seemed a blink of an eye but also an endless journey. He was an hourglass turned upside down, the brain filling up with the heart empty.

But now, his heart was full again.

“Don’t know why I was so angry at that time.” Adonis said, a little diffident.

Retreat and expectation fought in his head, pushing his heavy steps towards his corner. He extended his arm to touch Adonis’s glove.

“It doesn’t matter.” T’Challa said lightly, “Doesn’t matter.”

“Wait I got somethin’ to show ya.” Adonis shook off one of his gloves in a big grin, showing a tiny black ink beneath. “T.”

T’Challa was caught off guard. He froze, staring at the alphabet, all the blare behind was all white noise now. He suddenly realized, it was how he had called him in the plaza.

Following his silence, Adonis added with his hand rubbing the back of his head, “Don’t get this wrong. ’S Roc’s idea. He got an _R_ in the butt so he can show the nurses when he is in chemo.”

_T._

Was it just a random choosing?

Was it an innocent trophy for taking down a strong opponent like Tyron?

Or,

Was it his name?

T’Challa felt his heart pounding, breaths running out. There was so much to process that he couldn’t hold himself from shaking. He had thought it only stood for Tyron’s _T_ because he had said something about counting wins and losses.

Before he could learn more, the Announcer had called both fighters gather for introduction. The glove left his hand as Adonis pulled out from the rope. Tonight’s fight was the opening in this season after the last one closed in the match against Tyron. Tonight’s opponent, Neil Alonzo, was a rising star too, but from another side of town. He made some small strange noise out of his mouthpiece at Adonis who sized him up indifferently in the loud intro from the Announcer. From afar, drumbeat jumped in as Adonis threw his arms up high, encouraging the crowd in his backing steps to the center.

Rocky patted on Adonis’s cheeks saying “l want you to make it happen” and Adonis began his warm-up as usual while listening to Rocky rambling about how they were going to take down another one. Bouncing on toes and thrusting his fists to adjust his muscles, he inhaled and exhaled in even rhythm.

When the bell rang, he steadily swaged his shoulders walking to the center, already making doges left and right in case of surprises. The first round went really quick in T’Challa’s biting nails.

T’Challa watched him from below, seeing his moves different from when he had started which was treat to those people interested in changes in fighter’s mojo.

He was more mature and confident.

“Let’s go boy.” Adonis’s eyes went darker as he just got one in his waist.

Neil was quiet as he rushed in with two serial jabs on Adonis’s left. They were both ducked until Adonis’s blank face was caught in the next minute. Neil punched him right in his upper face so hard that Adonis was pushed closer to the ring rope. He tried to fight his feet up but he was again given series of punches from both sides of his waistband. The only thing he could do was cover his face with his gloves.

With Announcer shouting break, this round was over. Neil curled his elbow and yelled “yeah” as he walked to his corner. Adonis went back his own corner with a deep frown.

“Deep breath. Deep breath. Deep breath.” Rocky kneeled down before Adonis as the cutman removed his mouthpiece before attending to the cut on the corner of his eye. “Ya little nervous for the opening and that’s good, means you are in it but you have to keep your cool now and I want you...”

“Shadow with two left… punches? At first?” T’Challa caught a piece of fabric on Adonis’s trousers from below in the middle of their talk. “And then you follow with another one like a shovel and when you see the chance you aim this man’s chin right away from below.”

Adonis and Rocky looked at him as one.

It was nothing like his fights under the fall with Erik because back then they both had access to weapons but T’Challa had watched several fights now and he had kept Adonis’s style in mind. He could see what was going on in the field even though the rules were different. Both boxer had saved their strength for later so it was hard to tell who was going to win. The one with strategy might have the best hand and strategy was what T’Challa could at least provide.

“Chances are hard to get at first but you will get yours if you keep trying so between those moments you have to protect yourself by dogging serial jabs, especially from both sides of your face and waist,” T’Challa continued to warn him, “If he came too close you can tie him until break is announced.”

Adonis looked back at T’Challa, a bit of skeptic but understanding. Rocky was shocked too, he didn’t know T’Challa was capable of giving a speech like that. Caught between two pairs of inquiring eyes, T’Challa remained calm because he knew the occasion didn’t allow them to dig into it.

“Still think he wouldn’t kill a fly?” Adonis asked Rocky, distracted by an enswell applied to his eyebrow.

The coach shrugged to T’Challa’s smiling face, “You heard the man.”

“Mouthpiece on,” Announcer called with the ringing bell, “Seconds out.”

Neil stood up first as he bit hard on his mouthpiece and the crowd shouted to call Adonis to meet the head-on.

Adonis did try what T’Challa had instructed and just as T’Challa had said he didn’t get it right at the first. Realizing Adonis had upgraded his fences on his face in bob and weave, Neil began to go to the body up close and a distant combat became an infight. Adonis answered with the same dose by throwing two lower blows at Neil following a right jab. They exchanged fists for a little while and Adonis began to lose his cover-ups on his face so Neil flanked him with a hook on his face again and closed this round.

When they broke apart, Neil hissed at him aggressively. Adonis shook his head to stay lucid, searching for the next chance. They tried paws on each other until they all turned into real blows and infighting jabs followed. As Adonis was pushed close to the edge again, he parried the incoming attack by a lead right and tied Neil into the ring center until the Announcer broke them apart to the edge. Adonis was steadier than he had started and he dared Neil against the rope. “Come on.”

In the next round, since Adonis was already close to the edge, Neil opened up with a quick punch in his right jaw but Adonis didn’t slip. He took his punch with his glove and pushed Neil into the center by a counterpunch. Rocky hit the edge, roaring to Adonis to call him seize it right now. With a round of crosses into Neil’s middle body, Adonis closed him with a strong corkscrew punch. Neil bent to his right at once and lost his balance, falling on the ground. He struggled on his elbows getting up but the Announcer had started the countdown.

“One, two, three…”

“Unc!” Adonis said to the counting coach. “Got it!”

T’Challa just began to organize what he was going to say in congratulation as he was pulled to the ringside by Rocky who encouraged him to count together.

“Four, five, six, seven…” under Rocky’s thick arm, T’Challa counted with the crowd in tears.

 

In Wakanda, he had heard war drum beating in the Warrior’s Fall along with bugles blowing through meandering heights and battle fire burning on each terrace of every tribe. Tongues of flames signaling war lined up every tribe coordinate on the floating map screen and an open metal box in which a new vibranium arm had been stored lay on Shuri’s lab table, ready to be installed.

Everything was getting into place, including the King himself had showed faith by saying farewell to a tragic past. T’Challa had flown a carrier with some trusted members to the Pacific where he would bury the crystal casket in which lay his cousin’s body. He wished there had been a royal burial but he could not risk disturbing Erik’s peace by arguing with the elders in the Concil. Part of him had been gone when the casket had sunk into the deep blue sea with the Killonger’s peaceful face swallowed by glimmering water.

“ _Hamba kahle_ ,” he had said with his lips on his carrier.

 

“Eight, nine, ten! That’s it!” claimed the Announcer in an official voice, “We have a winner!”

Back in the ring, Adonis howled, biting his lower lip as he enjoyed floods of scream and praise. The crowd went crazy in the flashlights from numerous cameras as commentators shouted to their microphones, telling the whole Philadelphia that a West Coast boy was the winner of a good fight.

Rocky crawled over the rope and dragged Adonis into his arms. “You did it!”

“Yeah! We did it!” He still had his mouth piece on so his voice sounded like chewing gum.

As Adonis said so, he kept looking at T’Challa.

At this moment, the fixation of his champion gripped T’Challa’s throat immediately as he suddenly flinched at the hot gaze. It was familiar but foreign, a kind of expression he would never receive from his fellow countrymen. Having been let go by his proud coach, Adonis stepped to the edge and grabbed his hand to force him climb up to the ring. T’Challa was too nervous to make a sound as he lifted himself up on the edge, standing parallel with the young boxer across the rope.

Their foreheads bumped into each other, they breathed together and their shaky hands clenched tight in one. He whispered congrats into Adonis’s ears and the young man laughed his words back against his nose. Adonis’s neck was covered in slim sweat which ran down all over his chest and back, glowing marvelously on every fiber of his muscle. He still had the urge and the ability to fight, he could do this all day. T’Challa felt heat gushed through his bones and veins, awakening his still limbs from nervousness to the fight. He looked into his eyes and caught them looking back at his.

A pair of brown eyes glistening in immense light.

 _Light_.

T’Challa felt his racing heartbeat slow down. He found all the burden on his shoulder rest in this man’s arms. The lies he had made, the stupid actions he had took and the accusations he deserved seemed a million years ago. He knew one day he had to face the consequences. But for now, he wanted this one night to be every night. If it was the last thing left to do, even if there was a hard fight waiting for him, he wanted this night to himself, for Adonis Johnson.

 

He wished for it despite he had heard his close friend calling him through his earpiece.

“ _Kumkani_ , Captian is on his way to see you. Overwatch picked up his signal ten minuets ago.” Okoye said, “Shall we prepare the War Room?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> To quote what the Doctor said:  
> Realities of life happen for a reason.  
> What is going to happen, still happen.
> 
> Kudos and comments are welcomed! Can't wait to see what you think about this chapter!  
> Have a good day!


	8. Embrace

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Happy Children's Day! Hahahahaha~~~  
> How can I describe what happens in this chapter? Emmm... it is hard to summarize without spoiler but it does involve a kitten like T'Challa and protective Adonis.  
> And I altered the timeline of Creed by postponing Holiday's visit and put it close to the fight with Conlan.  
> Just for the sake of T'Challa's involvement in this.
> 
> And everybody loves a homecoming right?!
> 
> Kudos and comments are very very welcomed! Please share your thoughts with me!  
> Thank you all!

He had imagined what it would have been, if he hadn’t left his office building that day. He had heard a voice calling as he had clenched his fist in the narrow space within the cold cement and plastic walls he had had to wear suit and tie all day, staring something that had him feel not belong. Those hands, now clean and tidy, were not supposed to be for delicate work on the keyboard. And at some point, he had thought it had been enough and he had chosen to get it over with his boss and bought a ticket to Mexico. Despite of some black eyes that had made him stand out of the crowd, it had been an enlightening experience. What had happened next was part of his plan while some was not, leading to what he had become now.  Day by day, the sunshine he had been running to when he did his morning training seemed more different and glorious. He had found something he had been able to cling to and it was indeed a blessing. He had Rocky and friends that he could rely on.

He felt he could leave all those behind, a past of legend that he had been branded with since he had been born.

Until today, when he looked at nothing in the harmony of trains arriving and departing outside of Rocky’s house, an offer was put on the table. He seemed to have heard something and he turned to look for Rocky over his shoulder as he saw the old man had hang up a call. Through the foggy glass window, he saw Rocky sigh and waved his hands to call him inside.

And then here they were, sitting in front of Conlan’s manager. A white middle-aged guy, bold and bearded, explained his plan across them in a black coat, taking about hooking up him with Conlan in a to be frontline boxing fight. Adonis wouldn’t know what would be on the newspaper after all of these was over, but this guy thought otherwise.

“You want me to fight Conlan?” he asked.

“I think it is a wise move,” Holiday suggested, “After your pro trip in Mexico you had 14-0 in your pocket now with Tyron and that Alonzo kid you can count for 16-0.”

He nodded.

“But those are trifling matters,” Holiday continued, “You don’t want to be remembered like that with them, do you?”

Talking about trifling, there had been something going on in his mind lately. It all had started one normal evening, when their training had been over. He hadn’t missed the train, hadn’t dropped any of the trainings under Rocky’s order. He hadn’t done nothing extraordinary. But it had happened as if it had meant something, them meeting under an insignificant circumstance which had turned out to be meaningful because after that, life had turned to a new page. Every time he had thought about how he had sat down next to the man on the edge of the ring, bitter and sweet would contradict in his chest. Since then, every moment this man had lived, was part of Adonis's life.

“You think I am ready?” Adonis turned to Rocky.

“This man came to us because he thinks you are a sure thing,” Rocky said lightly, “It is sure victory.”

“That is not true.” Holiday replied almost instantly.

“Yes, it is.” Rocky replied in certainty.

By the look of Holiday’s face, Adonis knew there would be more coming.

Holiday could not help but chuckled.

“Okay, right. This could be my guy’s last fight, we want to make it count,” Holiday said, “We would want you to change your name to Creed, just for formality.”

Formality. He hated this word even though he could do nothing about it since they were having a friendly conversation. For a guy leading a life that was a contrast to his, they would say anything light against the weight on his shoulder. They would not understand what CREED meant to him or how much it would take away from him if he had worn it. Adonis could recall someone having said something about names were only symbol or formality as the person owning it was all that mattered. A man with gentle hands and tender smile, had emphasized this point already made clear in his own mind when he had put a pair of gold-frame glasses onto his nose. It had been a ridiculous accessory, but he just couldn’t refuse the man.

He would very love that if T’Challa had been here with them. They had not seen each other like forever, at least he had thought so. After the fight with Neil Alonzo, they had separated by the congratulating crowd and when he had turned, the man had been gone.

Gone, like he had never been in his life before. Hot and cold stirred in his stomach when the possibility became more and more absolute. From the bottom of his heart, for some reason, he thought they had to at least say goodbye, but they hadn’t got the chance to do so. Vacancy was so deep in his torso as he tried to understand the look in the man’s eyes when they had stood across the ring rope.

And then he struggled back to focus on the matter the three of them were discussing and he said, “What if I say no?”

“No name no fight,” Holiday smiled, even though not pleased, “That’s a non-starter.”

Adonis didn’t respond until Holiday spared them one day or two to think about this. They left with Holiday voice saying “it is a good deal” circling in their heads. But today was a regular day in which there were still trainings to do so they went back the gym to continue what had been left behind.

Bothered by the offer, Adonis was distracted, but he still managed to finish all the shadow boxings, ropes and pads within time. Standing against the wall, Rocky shook his head and he straightened up to his silent student.

“Look, why not we go back to my place and we watch them old movies together?” Rocky said, “You can stay the night and I allow you to use my shower.”

Adonis took off his gloves and laughed, “Okay.”

“There is a lot to think about, I know.” Rocky took over his gloves, “Take your time.”

“Yeah,” Adonis picked the bottle left in the ring corner, but he didn’t drink, “I just think… Maybe we should run this by T’Challa.”

“Can’t get hold of him since the last fight,” Rocky was not really surprised though, “He might have his own things to do. But money was paid ahead so the prep ain’t gon be a problem.”

“It’s not about the money, Unc.” Adonis shot him a look, “Doesn’t he need to know about this?”

Or know about what his take on this? Or did he really not care about him winning or losing even though he was wearing Apollo’s name? Strange to think of it, by the way, that T’Challa had never brought up this matter as he had always cared about him and him only. It had made him wonder if he also had a bone in the throat to talk about family.

“He would want you to make your own choice,” Rocky patted on his shoulder and squeezed, “We all do.”

“I don’t know what he want Roc,” Adonis sneered at himself, “I... I don’t even know nothing about him.”

 

 

 

But a little relax would be a good idea. Three hours later, when he stepped out of the bathroom he was not as gloomy as he had first heard about the offer. He hummed his favorite song walking into the total darkness in the guest room, rubbing off the water on his lower head with a towel when he heard something coming from the far corridor. At first, he thought it was someone next door or downstairs closing their doors, but he didn’t hear any door squeak or keys turn. The sound faded quickly like a flash of lightening. It was a distant noise, but he caught it. Like kissed by a butterfly, he felt an itch on his earlobe but when he touched it, he felt nothing.

He looked out for any more bug attack left and right, but he found nothing coming. Walls blank as usual, there was only his own shadow casted on the white paint. He looked outside through the window only to find a dull street with one or two dim lights lingering in solitude. No car passing and people talking, it was a quiet night when everyone was off the street to other places to look for fun. He shook off the wired ideas in his head and turned back to the switch off the bath room light.

As soon as he let off the button, the ceiling close to the only small window open to the outside gave out a light crack behind him. Rocky was out to buy beer so there was not a single ghost except for Adonis himself. His coach’s house was as old as the owner, but it was not a haunting one as far as he could see. Adonis didn’t turn back at once. Instead, he slipped to the kitchen to fetch a rolling pin and held it close to his chest. It was not as deadly as a knife, but a boxer knew how to knock out a human being by all means.

He moved carefully on toes, slinking back to the guest room door quickly. When he strode quietly and slowly close to the door frame he found another shadow hidding below the window.

Under the moonlight spearing through the winding curtains, a dark-skinned man, naked from top to the bottom, curled into himself on the floor like he wanted to shut everything outside.  Innocent lustre wouldn’t do him any harm but he just couldn’t stop shaking as if he would break apart at any moment. Something other than Adonis had terrified him. His body was covered in sticky mud and black moist that Adonis could only relate to those in a sewer. Letting himself entangled with thin layers of gauze, the man seemed a fallen angel from an apocalypse, too fragile to be a perpetrator. Adonis put down the pin and walked into the room as he heard the man breathing in pain, grasping for air against the cold wall as if he just began to learn how to respire.

The wooden floor creaked every time Adonis set a foot on it which made the man shiver. Unfamiliarity turned to clarity when the angel managed to look up. His big brown eyes in redness flickered in stunned puzzlement as he found out there was another man in this room.

Adonis’s head malfunctioned as he recognized the man.

“T’Challa?!”

He rushed to the man and closed the open window before shutting the certain. He looked around, analyzing the situation. He came through the hallway to the door, so it was impossible that T’Challa had gone into the room from that way. The window was the last resort to break in, but he didn’t hear anything breaking. He kneeled to see if he was OK but T’Challa huddled back smaller again when he was touched. T’Challa was too scared and shocked to keep balance over the contact and fell to the floor. Lying down on one side, he stared trembling at Adonis as if the young man was going to beat him.

It was the first time Adonis had been troubled by his built figure.

“What happened man?” Adonis frowned, reaching to the nightstand to turn on the lamp.

The light tore a heart-breaking scream out of the man’s mouth. Ears buzzed in his cry, Adonis turned off the light immediately. Hell, he hadn’t known T’Challa could let off like that.

“Okay, okay, no light,” Adonis sat back down, but keeping distance, “We cool now?”

T’Challa said nothing, still staring at him, breaths easier. Adonis didn’t move forward. At least the man didn’t hide from the world anymore, just terrified. They kept their places in dead silence for a moment until ice was broken as T’Challa moved one of his feet with a tiny rustle between his legs.

“Better?” Adonis tried.

To his expectation but disappointingly, T’Challa still didn’t open up. Legs taut straight and toes curling, the man huffed like an abandoned cat left dead in heavy snow. Daytime might be warm enough for a grown man to stay naked inside but temperature at night was not to mess around.

“Fuck it.” Adonis stood up.

He was not the type letting a living person freeze to death on the ground, so he set his firm hands helping T’Challa up despite of his relatively weak floundering and put his arms under his armpits to lift him up onto his bed. T’Challa was literally lost, sitting on the edge like a doll with his eyes locking Adonis’s like a pair of hooks. The scream out of his purple lips was his final endeavor to reject any of Adonis’s actions. Arms crossed against bare chest, Adonis studied him on his knees, worried that he had lost his voice over whatever disastrous experience he had been through. If that was the case, it would be better if he kept his voice to himself. He could do the talking. For now, he just had to accept the reality that his sponsor just showed up without warning like the first time after disappearing for days.

The first command his head gave him after he had positioned T’Challa on the bed was to get something to cover his body, but a more urgent matter would be to get him a hot shower. On his way to the bathroom, Adonis caught a glimpse of his phone shimmering on another side of his bed. He fought for a while and eventually, he decided not to call the police or paramedics because if a little bit of lamp light could scare the shit out of T’Challa, a group of uniforms might just break him into pieces. He closed the guest room door and went back to pluck T’Challa off the bedsheet to force him face the spray.

“ _Hayi_ …” T’Challa protested, voice falling away.

“Stop it.” Adonis put on a harsh face. But even an unrecognizable sound was music to Adonis’s ear because it was a relief that T’Challa finally cracked.

Shower was another round of torture for T’Challa even though it was done in total darkness. Water was as knife to fish on chopping block as to T’Challa under the spray as he kept ducking the current. Even though the bathroom was too small for two grown-ass man, Adonis had no choice but joined him in the rain and held him still with one hand, getting his own body wet again while using another to flush the unknown filth off his sleek skin. Again, T’Challa put up an enormous fight to stay where he was until Adonis slapped on one of his thighs in a tired way.

“Next one ya get won’t be slap.” Adonis warned.

T’Challa froze under his hands, tamed.

Adonis let out a sigh. He had never washed a kitten before, but he found this could really be an analogy.

Waste began to fall off from T’Challa’s neck down into the swirl within his collarbones before running down his square shoulders, the perfect dark skin underneath revealed along the streams. T’Challa bowed his head into his chest, blocking his eyes from the water in whimper.  Gaze returning from the waste flood down to the drain, Adonis took a moment in the sight of T’Challa peeled off the clay. Light was out of option, he couldn’t see much, but the moon had awarded him with a peek of his chocolate skin and tight waist. Trails of water illustrated his inviting cleavage with long fingers pressed hard into his chest and dived into the interspace where hid the nipples that Adonis had no privilege to see.

 _Fuck, fuck, fuck._ Sirens went off in Adonis’s head. He was nervous like risking getting caught making love in the classroom while everyone was out for the PE class. He swallowed hard and grew disconcerted for the betrayal under his pants against his stone-cold face. And T’Challa’s head came up suddenly and caught Adonis’s hungry eyes. He cowered at the young man’s gaze and looked down at his chest where some stubborn drops remained.

God he really hated it when T’Challa acted like that as if he was going to consume him. Adonis began to get this feeling that sooner or later he would do something stupid if he kept T’Challa in the bath any longer.  He turned off the spray and dragged him out before letting his dripping body dry in the cool air for a brief moment until he could find a clean towel.

“Donnie?” Keys jingled along with Rocky’s call, “Movie time.”

“Shit,” hearing the coach’s cheerful whistle, Adonis’s still couldn’t find a damn clean towel.

He paced around for a few seconds until he saw the towel he had used on the sofa. T’Challa slumped down onto the bed as the towel was tossed on top of his head.

“Clean yourself up.” Adonis pointed at the towel and stated word by word, “AND STAY HERE.”

Somehow, T’Challa seemed lucid for a while and nodded.

“What took you so long?” Rocky put the beer into his fridge, “We gon watch movie or not?”

“Yeah, let’s see _The Note Book_ ,” Adonis offered, “Classic.”

Rocky pouted his lips with a raised eyebrow, “Donnie, seriously?”

“M’ serious!” Though wavering for the situation back in his room, Adonis flashed an otherwise perfect smile, “You said you loved it.”

After a short moment of anxiety about whether T’Challa would make a sound or do anything drastic, Adonis finally saw Rocky fall asleep at exactly the same moment every time they had watched this movie. Adonis tucked him into a fluffy blanket as carefully as possible and sneaked back to his room. Observant as ever, T’Challa had acquired what the bed was for and curled up under the comforter, sleeping like a baby. Adonis groaned in frustration as he found himself run out by the drama T’Challa had created. He didn’t know how on earth he was going to ask T’Challa about the offer, let alone getting to the bottom of this when he was out of whack like that.

He sat down in the sofa and thought himself into sleep.

The moment he opened his eyes, the sun had risen in morning chirps. He rubbed his dopey eyes, moaning for the sore back. From the far end of the hallway, he could hear Rocky was already up in the kitchen cooking. He searched his room for a moment and then sat up with a start.

Kitten and the comforter were both gone.

“FUCK!” He ejected from the sofa.

“You know what he was like…”

In the hallway echoed Rocky’s laughs with eggs fried in the pan.

Adonis was just about to call out Rocky’s name when he held it two feet away from the kitchen as he saw a T’Challa wrapped up in the comforter, eyes flustering at him as if Rocky was giving him a hard time. Rocky stared at him too, eyes traveling between his bare chest and their unproperly dressed guest. His educating eyes said everything which gave Adonis goose bumps.

_What the fuck is this?_

On top of everything, it was absurdly logical that T’Challa blended in so well in one of their regular mornings. Delicate eyelashes jittering in the flush of dawn, he diverged his gaze as soon as he found himself under Adonis’s scope. He recoiled into the fabric, legs dangling out of the comforter around the high chair, hiding from Rocky’s curious eyes, like a secret lover Adonis had smuggled back home behind his uncle’s back. Adonis could see in Rocky’s eyes that the old man was picturing something that didn’t exist. That was an affirmative.

Adonis cleared his throat.

“There he is,” Rocky cracked another egg against the pan and filled him in, “How you feel?”

Luckily, it looked like that he didn’t know what the hell had happened last night. Poor guy had enough in his plate because of cancer, he didn’t want him to go cardiac arrest. Walking past T’Challa who had taken a sip from his coffee cautiously, Adonis tried to act normal by opening the fridge to fetch for nothing. This was so out of norm. Adonis would rather that Rocky had just asked.

“I am okay,” he said casually with a forced grin, “A little sore, but all right.”

He nearly bit his tongue. It came out the wrong way, but he did have lots of training yesterday so…

“You want some toast?” Amused, Rocky asked and turned around.

“Okay.” He answered.

Behind Rocky, Adonis stared at T’Challa as he fished out his bowl from the dish rack as usual. He got around the table and sat down for breakfast, eyes never leaving him for even a second. T’Challa watched him pour the cereals into the bowl, expression lit up with fascination and then coy. In a string of joyful dingle and sizzle, T’Challa smiled at him for the first time they had seen each other under this roof.

Adonis covered his face. “Oh my god.”

He might need an ambulance more than T'Challa did.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've heard someone saying a ghostshell AU story is a doomed BE but I am going to prove that that is not true.  
> Erik will come back to the stage in the next chapter, Erik lovers stay tuned!
> 
> Kudos and comments are welcomed! Can't wait to see what you think about this chapter!  
> Have a good day!


	9. Reunion

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am terribly sorry for the late update. I am not sure if anyone is still following this story.  
> This is the first origianl fanfiction I post here and I did it during the busiest part of my whole study years.  
> Luckily I can take a break now and I will try to finish this fic as I planned (I sincerely hope I can do this!)  
> Thank you so much for your kind comments and I will reply them one by one after I upload this new chapter.  
> Yes I made a lot of new magic in my setting and I am trying to soothe the details for you by storytelling. I purposefully left blanks for the readers to interpret the story and the emotion.  
> Please continue leaving lovely comments after reading this :)))).  
> Love you all!

Yes.

It was his voice that he had been following.

He looked at under his eyes over the young man who had been playing the remote for quite a mindless time. The other man, older and wiser than both of them, was putting things back into order in the little room behind them. He tried, extremely hard, to make sense of everything that was happening like he assumed he used to do, but he failed. He wanted to listen to his voice again, just to be more certain that it wouldn’t leave him the next time he opened his eyes.

It was this young man, at least something he owned that plucked him out of the black sea where he had been drowning. He had been about to give up when a sound came, close to someone throwing fists into a shuffle bag or the scratch that a hard punch broke the thin air. He had heard him calling out, _T_ , in a background of hammering claps and shouts. It was happy, energetic and above all… alive, restoring his shattered consciousness. The next thing he had known had been that the young man calling him, cleaning him but not hurting him and putting him into bed.

He wanted to relive these moments again, despite the parts where he had felt very uncomfortable. The intimacy and compromise they shared in the darkness were his safe haven. Just when he sneaked a hand out, trying to reach the young man’s left hand....

“Donnie, come here.” Rocky’s voice cut in, “Talk to me.”

“Yeah.” Adonis stood up from the sofa, the cushion fell and rose.

He found Rocky holding his arms up in another corner. His mentor cleared his throat, lips pursed to the guest alone in the sofa.

“What?” Adonis asked, eyes floating along the ceiling lines.

“Been waiting for you to tell me, son. Are you going to keep pretending there is nothing going on?” Rocky asked, lifting his arms a few inches.

“Unc!” Adonis pulled Rocky closer before checking if T’Challa was listening. “There is nothin’ goin’ on a’ight?”

“You want me to believe that crap ya gotta work harder young man.” Rocky’s brows rose and then frowned. “He is not well Donnie. We need to send for someone to check'm up and before that…”

Adonis had already known what he was going to say and his version of what had happened last night could not hold in the dark any longer.

“Shortly after you left, I heard noises by the window. I feared for my life for a while when I looked outside but the only thing, I found was him lying down on our porch freezing, puking and…”

Adonis tried to get a better plot in his brain and it took a little bit longer than he had imagined.

“And…?” Rocky’ brows were still knotted.

“I thought he was going through a rough break-up man, so I did what a good bruh should do. I moved his ass inside and got him cleaned up.” Adonis supposed that was enough to cover what had really happened so he stopped here and shrugged.

“Where his clothes at?”

“What do you think? He puked all over himself and I threw them away! I ain’t doing his laundry…”

“Huh,” The corners of Rocky’s mouth fell even lower, “And you tricked me into sleep by _The Note Book_ , clever.”

Adonis smiled as wide as he could. “He was asleep and I didn’t want to bother you with the fact that I brought someone back without tell…”

“It’s OK, Don. You can always bring _someone_ to my place.” Rocky was doing that face again, like he knew something. Adonis rolled his eyes on his toes.

“But…” His mentor continued. “I have already made a call to a professional.”

“What do ya mean a call?” Adonis said in frustration. “He’d be scared.”

When he spoke the last word, he found himself rejecting every idea about letting any unfamiliar face getting near T’Challa now. The only thing he didn’t know was that the one he was trying to keep away from the world was listening closely to their conversation.

T’Challa made a noise, successfully drawing their attention back to him. Adonis turned and found him nodding his head, seemingly giving them permission to do whatever they had planned. He was surprised at T’Challa’s regained awareness towards his surroundings but he was still not sure if a stranger would do any good to his condition.

“See? No problem.” Rocky began to pick things he needed going out, putting on his jacket and his beloved black cap. “I sent for a house-call Doctor here. I’ve done this before.”

“OK. I will talk to him.” Adonis finally gave in. He could feel T’Challa’s curious stare at his back and he really wanted to check on him again. “See you later at the gym?”

“It’s alright. Spend the rest of the day with your sponsor and ask him about the match OK?”

“Fine.” Seeing his uncle out the front door, Adonis rocked on his heels and looked at an innocent T’Challa.

“It is just you and me now.”

T’Challa could get his caring from his voice and even understand what he was trying to tell him. This man wanted him to be safe and sound.

He had strong desire to let him know how grateful he was being rescued by him from drowning but he was unable to find a right word, or, a right way. He kept looking at Adonis, trying to make him understand he expected him to come closer. The young man seemed to get the message and he went back to settle down next to him again. T’Challa, now fully dressed in the sport wear Adonis left here in case, sat up and leaned in.

“I… wait wait wait…hold up.”

No, not again. Adonis found his mind running wild for a dangerous moment back to how they had showered together last night and yanked T’Challa away. There was a brief disappointment in T’Challa’s eyes, but it disappeared soon. Adonis caught it and felt really bad for being such a jerk.

“Listen, I don’t know if you can understand me now but there will be someone coming,” Worried that words were not suitable for T’Challa’s comprehension, Adonis added a considerate number of hand gestures of an entity will be in this house soon. “into our house and take a look at you.”

His movements, not that he had noticed, was funny in T’Challa’s eyes. He burst out a chuckle and it suspiciously stirred Adonis’ heart strings. He couldn’t believe what just happened and he covered his face in his palms for a second and looked up at T’Challa again.

“You will be alright. I promise.” He said, stroking his shoulder. “I won’t let anyone hurt you.”

T’Challa studied him and his hand on his shoulder, tracing a hesitant hand along his chest and rested on the young man’s fingers. He felt trust, reassurance and something complicated in this young man’s sincerity. It felt wrong talking to him the way he was doing. In the fuzzy jar of his memory, he seemed to recall he had once been the one telling this young man everything would be OK.

The doorbell rang next to him.

“What? Someone is fast.” Murmuring undertone, Adonis sat up to get the door.

Outside stood a tall bearded man in white gown carrying a medical kit. The man seemed even taller when he took one more step up. Adonis noticed that some white lines had grown within his hair on the temples, just as his beard. Generally, he seemed a man to trust.

“You the doctor?” Still, Adonis didn’t let him in immediately.

“Yes, Mr. Balboa sent me.” The man said, pulling up the kit stripe over his shoulder and stretching a hand. “I am Doctor Steven Strange. Would you be so kind to let me come in to attend to the patient?”

“O…key, Strange guy.” Adonis shook his hand and stepped aside, still confused at the doctor’s name. “He was there.”

The doctor came in with a determined purpose and walked straight to T’Challa. Unlike the house-call doctors in Adonis’ imagination, he didn’t identify himself to the patient when he moved closer as if it was not an necessity. It struck Adonis as even more suspicious when T’Challa didn’t protest at all as if he had known this man. He just sat there, letting the doctor check his pause, his breaths and his pupils. The doctor fixed both of his hands on T’Challa’s temples and started saying things Adonis couldn’t get and T’Challa shut his eyes so quick like he was switched off. It seemed normal at first until the doctor unzipped T’Challa’s hoodie and tried to touch his chest with his bare hand.

“Hey!” Adonis snapped, “Shouldn’t you use some medical tools, gloves or something?”

“Relax. I am not going to hurt him.” As the doctor intended to proceed, his hand was caught by Adonis’ firm grip.

“Get your fucking hand out, and start to put on them gloves.” Adonis said.

Normally, anyone, apart from a fighter, who was threatened by Adonis would know better, but not this man. He looked unmoved, just silently annoyed, taking a hard look at his gripped hand.

“I have finished my primary examination and I’d like to perform further test in the clinic.” He took his hand back swiftly and waved his hand over T’Challa’s forehead. “You may open your eyes, sire.”

“What did you just say?” Adonis asked. T’Challa opened his eyes and felt he had been out for a while and back again. The young man and the man in white coat both had this serious look on their face like he had done something awfully wrong and he didn’t know what to do. Suddenly, a voice called in his head.

_“Come with me.”_

He found the doctor staring at him. Was that him talking in his head?

“I said I need to take him to the clinic for more test. My car is outside.” The doctor picked up his kit and moved towards the front door without looking at the man he was referring to, “Come one, you are welcomed to ride with us.”

“Damned right I am going with you!” Adonis grabbed his coat and stated. He gently put an arm around T’Challa’s and helped him up, not forgetting to zip his hoodie.

The doctor was already out to start his car but T’Challa’s legs were not moving. He somehow got this feeling that he had no choice but to follow the demand in his head but he just couldn’t make up his mind.

“We need to take you to another place.” Adonis nudged T’Challa outside, locking the door and turning to give him one of his easy smiles. “I got you.”

The car parked aside the road honked.

“OK!” Adonis scowled back at the doctor’s probing eyes

 

For some unknown reason, T’Challa fell asleep again on their way to the clinic. Sleep had been an efficient way to recover for T’Challa, as Adonis supposed. He rested his head on the back seat but soon fell on Adonis’ lap with a thud. It scared Adonis for a moment of worry that he might have hurt his head but when he found his purrs on his knees even and steady, he let him be. He couldn’t pay much attention to the road after that, too focused on adjusting his legs in order to make T’Challa comfortable. The doctor took in everything in the mirror but he didn’t say anything. Not knowing how many streets they had passed, he found the car stop in front of a navy-blue door.

The clinic was nothing Adonis had pictured in his mind before he arrived. The room, which he later corrected as a hall was glorious with lights glowing under warm shades of sunshine shooting through an enormous round window up high. It was not the under-staffed ones he had checked himself into when he hadn’t wanted to be bothered. He was stunned to feel how soft it was when he landed his feet on the hand-tailored burgundy carpet and was overwhelmed by the shelfs in which straight lines of book spines glistening foreign gold-branded titles.  

“WOW.” Is the only word he could speak out as he laid T’Challa down on a sofa bed. “Nice place ya got here.”

Hearing his words, the doctor froze for a moment and then carried on. “Please, find yourself a seat and I will be back with you shortly.” The doctor was going up stairs with one hand getting rid of his gown, unveiling the dark neat blue gown underneath.

“Hey!”

Adonis’ call was not answered but it was not the thing he would care now.

He heard a shuffle next to him. T’Challa was up awake and stared down at the floor. A shiver ran through Adonis’ spine like a freezing electric shock to his limbs. He could feel it T’Challa was now himself again. He was a million miles away from him, as always. There seemed to be too many things going on in his mind as he lost control of his shaking hands.

“T?” Adonis sounded out.

After a while, T’Challa managed to respond. “Donnie.”

“Are you feeling better now?” Adonis restrained himself not to get up in a rush to be in the way of T’Challa’s processing. “I go get the doctor.”

“No, it is OK.” T’Challa said. “He is watching us the whole time.”

From the other side came the doctor’s careful footsteps as he descended from one of his giant stairs and spoke amusedly. “I am glad you are back, T’Challa.”

He wouldn’t want this conversation to be eavesdropped by someone who would absolutely overreact so he conjured up a magic wall to block the movements of this world, including Adonis. Outside the wall, the young man was stationary at the moment.

“I don’t want to be back _here_!” T’Challa rose from the sofa and marched to the foot of the stairs. “I know you have more powerful toys! Take us back!”

“Though I hate to say that but what you are requesting is way beyond my current ability, sire,” Stephen said. “Let alone I just pieced myself and you together from a pile of ash to flesh. It cost tons of my power.”

“Oh Bast!” Once T’Challa thought about what had happened in their world he couldn’t stop yelling, “All lies! You got more under your sleeves, that I know!”

“T’Challa, I am not the enemy here. Yes, I found you and I will try everything I can to find the others.” He looked right into T’Challa’s eyes. “We both know it is not going to be an easy task. For now, why don’t you calm down and be yourself for the ones you care about in this world?”

T’Challa knew what he was talking about. Adonis was standing still outside the wall and looked confused. His abnormal acts must have aroused his suspicion and what he had experienced would come out sooner or later. He knew Adonis would want answers and the young man was not going to give up until he got what he searched for. He actually liked him for it.

“Stay in here for the night and we will make decisions later.” Stephen eyed the young man outside, “And I am pretty sure he would like to join you. He wouldn’t even let me get too close to his sponsor.”

T’Challa shot a glare at the Doctor and sat down. “Don’t drag him into this, Doctor. We have done enough damage.”

“I think it is a bit late for that.” Stephen lowered his head for the first time today, a sense of alert lingering under his polite statement. “He was immune to my cover spell. He can see the Library.”

“What?” T’Challa’s eyes widened. “How is that even possible?”

“I am still figuring out what is going on right now so, my apology, I can not give you an answer.” Stephen said.

“You are going to share your plans with me, aren’t you?”

“Of course.” He kneeled before him and dragged the invisible wall down with tiny volts of glow in his hands.

The instance the wall disappeared, Adonis sneezed. “What’s that?”

“Maybe it is the change of temperature.” The doctor said as he examined T’Challa with some machine Adonis didn’t know. And he couldn’t remember when he came down a few seconds back. He watched the doctor finish checking T’Challa and asked. “Is he going to be OK? He was in a really bad shape last night.”

“He had too much alcohol and lost track of his time. I have prescribed some pills and he will be recovering.” The doctor lied under T’Challa’s warning stare. “I suggest he stay here one night for observation. We have a guest room if you wish to stay too?”

“Yeah.” That was a quick answered but Adonis didn’t have it in him to care right now. Hell, he was going to buy this alcohol shit. Something was going on. “I stay too.”

“Good,” The doctor was leaving again, “I will take you to your rooms.”

 

Their rooms were arranged on different floors. From downstairs Adonis had not known that there were so many floors in this big house. He had seen people walking around but they were just passing by as if they were invisible. The guest room for visitors, as the doctor explained, were set on the second floor, far away from the patient’s room for the sake of their peaceful recovery. The guest room was, again, to his surprise, way bigger and more decorated than he had expected, with a chandelier hanging above his head. Before he had gone into his room, he caught T’Challa and the doctor talking down the hallway with exceptional caution. He opened his mouth and closed it. They were in a world too distant for him to pry. Now Adonis was one hundred sure this guy’s name was just the least strange thing about this place.

He had no idea it would bother him so much that he couldn’t stop thinking about T’Challa keeping something from him. He threw himself over the edge of his bed, lying for a few minutes and decided to go out for some fresh air. They had come in in late afternoon so night fell quickly as he spent time blindly wandering around. The moments they had looked at each other under the water spray burnt into his heart. Had it been just someone else’s dream that he had accidentally walked into? Had it been just like right now, when T’Challa’s solitary shadow stretched beneath his slim figure under a sky full of stars?

Doctor Strange had briefed him about the outline of his library but T’Challa still felt it unreasonable when he couldn’t even find the elevator he had mentioned, given that this “clinic” had that many floors. In the end, he found himself looking over the city covered in drifting lights on the balcony. He prayed to the stars which seemed astonishingly similar to those in Wakanda but received no answer. Adonis was nowhere to be found and he thought it was for the best because he wouldn’t know how to make everything clear to someone that should be kept away from the apocalypse they had been through in another realm.

“Couldn’t sleep either?”

A voice broke the momentary silence he had been indulged in. But he didn’t mind because it was a pleasant startle.

“It is a bit early, don’t you think?” T’Challa said.

Adonis shrugged, encouraging himself to step closer to T’Challa, which he found not as difficult as before.

“What’s on your mind man?” He asked and rested his arms on the ornate rail.

“My home, mostly.” T’Challa replied. “My family, we… lost touch for quite some time.”

“Oh.” Adonis could read the sadness in his face without even looking at him. “Sorry, I didn’t know.”

“It’s OK.” T’Challa voice was soft and comforting, “It is not your fault.”

“I need to talk to you about something, T.” Finally, Adonis said. “Some guy’s sponsor approached us the day before. He wanted me to fight with his boxer, Conlan.”

This topic led T’Challa further into the reality in front of his eyes. The city, Philadelphia, expanded so sweet and close to him. He could feel the connection he had built with this man and the world he was living in. There must have been a plan made for him to come here to find this particular person.

“What did Rocky say?”

“He said we have to go through you.” Adonis murmured, “He said you’d want me to make my own decision.”

“He is right, Donnie.” T’Challa said, looking at him. “What do you think?”

“I dunno.” Adonis returned his gaze, struck by T’Challa’s gentle eyes where purple stars dimmed, and surged back to light. “I need your opinion.”

“There is more, is there?” T’Challa asked, “If it were a simple match, you can decide on your own.”

Adonis rubbed his nose. “He wanted me to fight with my father’s name. I have to fight, as Adonis _Creed_.”

It was difficult enough for Adonis to pronounce his name in this way, T’Challa could see it. He knew what a title could do to a man. There were too many things on the line when they had to wear the whole family history on their shoulders in a battle. He learned it from his own experience and that of another person who had looked like the man standing right next to him.

“I… have, had a cousin.” T’Challa spoke, “He was a lot like you.”

He had hold on to this thought for a long time, even lost in an unrealistic pursuit for a shallow destination. However, it occurred to him that his perspective had undergone a gradual change as the time he spent with Adonis went by. Adonis was nothing like Eric.

T’Challa’s careful choice of words brought Adonis’ heart down. He couldn’t imagine what T’Challa saw in him every time he looked into his eyes. An unpaid debt or a retrospective resemblance? It all made sense now. That was why T’Challa had never mentioned his family. That was why he had been chosen. He had made of a thousand excuses for T’Challa but none of them matched the harsh truth humming in his ears. It sucked, to an extent he couldn’t even stop himself from being bitten by the sharp edge of the marble he clenched on so hard. It was like his heart was emptied at once and a pool of darkness started to crawl to fill the void.

“What happened to’m?” He asked instead.

“We had a big fight because we had diverged opinions on the future of family business. His father and mine, they had gone down the same path and it had ended badly.” T’Challa told Adonis a version he could understand. “We couldn't escape the fate and he banished himself to a place no one can find. I failed to persuade him to stay.”  

“Hell of story.” Adonis commented, “Sounds like a good excuse to me, to make some amends by throwing money on someone just like him.”

“I thought so at first.” T’Challa turned to look at Adonis but this time the young man didn’t look back. It broke T’Challa’s heart to see him like that but he only had himself to blame. “But now, I must be a fool not to know it is impossible.”

Adonis didn’t respond.

“I just want you to know you don’t have to be like us, don’t have to be like anyone. Don’t wear something that is forced on you.” T’Challa held it for a moment and then continued, “Donnie, my deepest regret was allowing myself to carry that weight into your life.” The thought of leaving Adonis was painful, but he couldn’t help thinking that it was what Adonis would have wanted. He couldn’t trust himself to present the offer himself. He was afraid he couldn’t free Adonis.

“If you want me to leave I…”

“No,” Adonis stopped him firmly, “You can’t just write it off that easy, T. Don’t do this to me now.”

T’Challa suddenly felt Adonis’ hand on top on his. Against the cool marble, his hand felt warm. It was strange to be held this way by another man, but he didn’t want to let go either. Upon the back of his hand was a warrior’s palm, rough but determined. And then from afar swept a string of light across Adonis’ eyes, diffusing the words contained.

“I won’t do this for anyone than myself.” Adonis locked him in resolution. “I ain’t gonna do this to make anyone feel better. It is _my_ fight.”

“And you have my full support.” T’Challa clenched his fist under Adonis’ hand. “It’s time to make your own history, not to relive other’s.”

Adonis broke a laugh out of the blue and T’Challa was a little taken back.

“If tonight was last night.” Adonis said with a raised brow. “Ya wouldn’t talk like that.”

“What did I do?” A nervous expression appeared on T’Challa’s face. He had no recollection of what had happened between Wakanda and here. All he knew was that he had landed near Adonis and the young had got him to safety. “Did I do something that upset you?”

“Nah.” Adonis replied in handsome confidence, “You good. I helped you and you owned me.”

“Is that so?” T’Challa narrowed his eyes. “How exactly did you help me?”

“I performed CPR on you.” Adonis said. “It took some time. And you puked all over us so we took a shower together.”

“Oh Bast.” T’Challa covered his mouth and drew back his hand in disbelief.

“I save the details after the fight. And you gotta tell me everything going on in your life.” Adonis said at last. 

The curtain of serene night sky with starlit magnificence behind Adonis was brought down as he moved closer. T’Challa fell into a pair of muscular arms and the following was the young man’s lips caressing along the curl of his neck line.

“Glad you are back, T.”

“Me too.”

T’Challa said, one of his hand finding its way to Adonis’ spine and then to the stubble trailing down the back of his hair line.

 

“Had a good talk?”

“Me staying under your roof does not mean you can spy on me any time you want.” T’Challa turned around in front of the door to his room only to find a floating red cape. “Show yourself.”

“Harsh.” The Doctor’s form slowly surfaced as the cape rested on his shoulder blades. “I expected some royal friendliness if I bring you new information.”

“You were the one telling me two universes collided and the half _energy_ erased by Thanos in ours somehow travelled to this one and merged into a parallel identity.” T’Challa relented, “As much of a warlock as yourself, you are not curious about how this works?”

“Indeed I am curious,” Stephen replied, “Why your cousin came with us too.”

Suddenly, a whirl of cool air flashed across the shady hall. T’Challa had lost the ability to speak.

 


	10. Resolution

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Good evening guys (it was evening in my place when I posted this chapter).  
> This chapter has been a wonderful experience to me. In the original Creed I, we didn't see what happened after Rocky had brought Bianca to be there for Adonis. I supposed they could have sex, or a very important conversation that boosted Adonis.  
> I always wondered what someone that was so important to Adonis would say to him before the fight. Therefore I developed my own interpreation of what they talked about. But this time no Bianca, it was T'Challa.  
> The next chapter is the legendary fight with Conlan and I have prepared many Adonis/T'Challa moments without breaking the wholeness of the Creed I there.  
> Please stay tunned.
> 
>  
> 
> Kudos and comments are very welcomed. Love you all!

Ever since they had made it official to the world that Adonis would fight Conlan, all eyes in Adonis’ neighborhood fell on him. Some of them were looking forward to him rewriting his father’s legacy. Some were wriggling for mocking him the moment he was pronounced loss. Others were by-standers, trying to pry on celebrity lives and being ready for a belated “I told you so”.

Adonis was too excited to sleep a few times, dreaming about strange fire devouring him from inside out. He woke up sweaty and panting, feeling burns in both of his hands. And there is another thing. His mother. It had been a while since the news release and he had not heard from his ma. He had left voicemails and checked his phone over and over again when he could, for fear that he would miss any call from his mother. He knew she would be mad at him for his decision but he longed for at least one call and then as the conversation went, he would tell her no one could be the judge of what he was going to do. It would end in his mother’s tender sigh and his short hidden sorb he would not let anyone overhear, like every other time.

 

Meanwhile, T’Challa also wondered, if Adonis was ready for all of that when Halliday made sure that the whole city knew what was up. Within the day they had parted in the Doctor’s place, it made it to the news and now there was an unfinished poster with two young men pointing fists to the streets on a high building wall. It was familiar and embarrassing to him, thoughts circling back and forth because of a man. However soon, the guilt of being a runner to a war he had brought to his kingdom himself made him deny the tingling sweetness.

He hesitated in front of a big mansion with his bearded friend.

“Thinking about what I am thinking?” Stephen asked with a lifted hand.

“I disagree.” Hands behind his back, T’Challa paced. “Let’s be quick.”

Doctor Strange dug four fingers into a floating fire ring and then turned. The lock of the iron gate cracked open, leading to a spacious front yard. Along two sides of lively greenery, T’Challa watched the brick road spread out into a manicured garden centered by a clock fountain. Once he stepped inside, he had already felt he had known this place. A wave of knowledge rushed into T’Challa’s brain, the blueprint of the architecture, names of staff and arrangements of daily affairs all scaffolding in his mind, but in a troubling low speed. As soon as they strode past the ticking clock and reached the stairs attached to the household, a twirl of boots rang from the high terrace.

“Welcome back, Master” A dark-skinned lady stepped down the brick stairs and stood still before them

“Minohe.” T’Challa held her gaze and the woman’s name just came out of his mouth.

“Any plans today, sir?” She smiled and walked them up to the steps.

“There are a lot.” T’Challa looked at the Doctor out of the corner of his eye and returned to Minohe, “I need you to do something for me first.”

And then, when Rocky settled down into his arm chair in his ward despite of his low protest, a nurse came in with a bunch of flowers and a card in it.

“Gentlemen, someone left this for you.”

As Adonis picked up the card from the fragrant petals, a quick hand-written line popped up in front of his eyes.

_Best regards. T._

“Who sent that?” Rocky’s eyes lurked from the newspaper.

“A man who ain’t even bother showing up.” Adonis said, shoving the card back into the shrubs.

He couldn’t believe it was still T’Challa’s way of doing things, making his presence by giving things. He felt stung by it, just like T’Challa inadvertently trailed his fingers down his chin every time he pulled away from his hug.

“Oh give it a break.” Rocky gently remarked. “You both grown-ass men. Can handle some long distance.”

Adonis rolled his eyes.

 

A few days after the news released by Rocky, they had a press conference with Conlan, Holliday and it was later referred by the reporters as “foretelling opening”. The fireworks busting in the press conference added more fuel to the fight they would have nights away. Adonis saw fires in his naps again and he was frustrated. In his hotel room, he unlocked his phone. Ignoring the push news notifications about _Silver Spoon VS Failed Anger Management_ , he found no message from his ma, nor from T’Challa. He wanted to let it all out but he knew it was not the time.

As if having heard his needs to talk to someone, Rocky knocked on his door. The old man was alright, not feeling nausea or anything after the hustle and bustle in the conference. He sat down next to Adonis talking here and there and suddenly started paying too much attention to the closed door.

“You OK?” Adonis’ head turned to follow his coach’s peer and then shot back.

“Do you have someone hidden behind me tonight?” Rocky asked with his neck stretching out to the same direction.

“No, why?” Adonis grew uneasy. His coach can be a real mystery sometimes.

And then there were three soft knocks on the door. They were light but clear.

“Who is that?” Rocky nudged him up.

“I don’t know.” Adonis shot him a questioning glance and stood up to open the door.

The moment he was caught by a pair of brown eyes, he went blank at once. He stood motionless by the door frame, lips parted. The person waiting outside was calm and restrained, almost unreachable. They looked at each other quietly for a moment as if the two steps between them had casted an unbridgeable gap.

It was Rocky who happily broke the awkwardness for him and the coach’s face softened for the guest. “Yo, T’Challa? How you doing?”

Adonis finally lowered his head and shook it with a shy smile he didn’t notice. “You in this with him?”

T’Challa returned his smile. “Maybe.”

Rocky took the cue and pushed his way through the little space between them to the hallway with a “you know what to do” wink to his student. After the coach had finished his exit, T’Challa spoke, “May I come in?”

“Yeah.” Adonis sniffed, opened the door a little wider to let the man in. T’Challa’s eyes glued on the young man’s movements as he went inside and when he realized that, his gaze retreated as the boxer was just about to look back.

“Are you nervous about tomorrow?” T’Challa asked Adonis’ reflection in the dressing mirror, his quiet and low voice vibrated aside Adonis’ ears. The boxer had missed this voice despite himself, more than he could ever admit it. Another thing was that based on the conversation they had had the other night, there was an answer waiting for him on the other side. It promoted more eagerness and tense to the fight. Sometimes he wanted it happen right now, sometimes he wanted it postponed. He had this feeling that after tomorrow, everything would change.

“Naw, not really,” Adonis sat down on the edge of the printed bed sheet, playing with his fingers. “Thinking a lot about afterwards.”

“What is it about afterwards?” T’Challa turned around and sat down with him. He could sense the trouble in Adonis’ voice but he didn’t know why. Utter helplessness surged in T’Challa’s mind as he scowled down at the young man’s entwined fingers. He even began to question his decision of being here. The last thing he wanted was him being distracted.

“I… uh…” Adonis bit his lower lip, “I wonder what will happen after tomorrow. What people think about me and uh…”

More rather, what T’Challa would think about him. His eyes met the capital letter _T_ tattooed on his wrist. He thought about their change of perspective on him, seeing him as a mistake after the fight. Rocky being his coach, ma being his guardian and T’Challa as…his someone, these days, connection between people could be fragile. The debate over his competence to match his father’s legacy was still boiling.

He heard the man moving closer and then he saw his hands entering his sight, landing on his knee cap. What a pair of slender hands, he considered, in comparison to the bumpy ones he had.

“Adonis, look at me.” T’Challa demanded, leaving no room for refusal.

Adonis could not help but obey and raised his eyes towards the man. As soon as their gaze met, he had already tried to flinch. T’Challa started at the sight of his charm in this transitory vulnerability. He looked so much different, handsome in smoothly-edged manner. He’d always known there was a soft spot under his vilonce and he wanted him to know there was nothing to be ashamed of.

“Can I tell you something?” T’Challa suggested.

Adonis watched him with an expectant expression.

“When I made decisions like yours in the past. I wondered how others would think about me too.” T’Challa said.

“You did?” Adonis shot him a doubting glare.

“Yes, and when I saw someone who was having the exact same moments, I even tried to make decisions for them.” Sadness creeped into T’Challa’s voice, “When it didn’t work, I tried to make plans for them no matter they liked it or not. I didn’t find any wrong in it.”

Unexpectedly, Adonis knew the story behind his words. It was about the cousin he had lost in some fight. He didn’t know how bad it was but he could tell this cousin still had incontestable influence on T’Challa even though he was not around. The urge to separate himself from T’Challa’s memory of his cousin warred with the yearning for details of T’Challa’s life in his mind.

“Now I realize what should have been done, was being there for them when they had set their mind.” T’Challa said, “Tomorrow, you have to fight for your own. Not for me, Rocky, Apollo, or anyone. I am right here with you.”

Upon hearing T’Challa’s words, Adonis just found out how much he had enjoyed T’Challa’s endorsement and company. He really needed this. Whatever happened in the fight, he would do his best and create his own legacy in the name of boxing. After all these years, Mexico, L. A. Philly, he owned that much to himself. Moreover, he was grateful that along this wonderful journey, he was never truly alone.

“You asked me to do alotta things now bruh,” Adonis’ face beamed with a naughty grin. “Can I ask somethin’ from you?”

“Whatever you like.” T’Challa replied evenly and then in a deeper way. “But, it has to happen after the fight. I can’t overexcite you.”

“Okay.” Adonis stole a glance at T’Challa’s face.

“Wish my ma was here too,” A moment later, Adonis could not help but whispered, “Left her a dozen voicemails today but so far nothing.”

“I am sure she wants to be here with you,” T’Challa’s said, “Try to learn her patience. We all have faith in you, my warrior.”

“You talk like a king you know that?” Adonis mumbled, judging T’Challa with narrowed eyes, left knee touching T’Challa’s right one. He couldn’t find a second person that can control their voice like T’Challa did.

“If I were a king, you would be my right hand wherever I needed.” T’Challa told him with a trusting smile. “Will you blame me if I won’t let you leave my side?”

“No,” Adonis stated, “Cause I will be there for you too.”

T’Challa had supposed it to be a joke but as the young man looked up to meet his gaze, he felt a bone in his throat. It was not tease, banter or humor that he found in his eyes, it was striking aspiration. The air around them fell silent as blurring tires scratching the wet road outside, and T’Challa’s heartbeat became the loudest sound in the room. Heat threatened to stimulate from the end of his spine. He breathed in and out, searching for anything to respond but words failed him. Years of training had taught him how to hold his ground in the face of numerous challenges yet he felt his ground shaking. For the first time in a long time, he tasted blushing fright as he was blinked down by another.

“Did I just scare you?” Adonis smirked.

“Oh you?” Surprise lit up T’Challa’s face as he patted on the young man’s forearm. “Never.”

“Thanks for the talk, man. I know you got me.”

As he said that, Adonis flashed his tattooed wrist towards him. T’Challa didn’t answer, or worse, he was too afraid to answer, just wrapped the young man to his side, inhaling the refreshing scent through his black knit. He smelled clean shave, light teak and curing warmth. It should have been him being thankful for Adonis’ honesty. He wanted to do the same, yet struggling to imagine that going well. All he could do was trying to loosen his arms in case that unknowingly, he hugged a little too hard.

 

“That really necessary?” A man with a head of neat braids raised his voice from the other side of the mirror. “Seriously? A leopard? It ain’t even a panther.”

“They are all cats, Erik.” Stephen said in a detached tone, hairbrushing the fur on the head of the grooming leopard by his right foot, “You want a dog perhaps?”

“Fuck you.” Erik sneered, pacing around in disgust, his handsome face reflected furiously on the mirror, “Fuck T’Challa. His fake ass parallel identity doesn’t even have a cousin?”

“He is a cat-loving person.” Stephen put down the brush and turned to the next page of the book in his hand, browsing for the next line of spell. “He will adore you.”

“Who says I want to be adored by’m huh?” Erik’s voice disconcerted for a moment. “I want to be back to this world dumbass.”

“I know. And this is the quickest way.” Stephen explained in sympathy, “I don’t want to keep you waiting, poor cousin.”

“Okay! Stop talking to me like that!” Erik straightened up and said, “’M ready.”

As Stephen closed his book and lifted his hand gracefully, the leopard’s ears stirred in alarm.


End file.
